


Buried Evidence

by Macx



Series: Denuo [33]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just who is Conrad Ecklie under all those masks? Why has he been so helpful when it came to protecting Nick and Grissom's relationship? He had much to gain from exposing them, right? Or not? The truth is about to come out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resurrecting Evidence

Gil Grissom looked at the run-down casino where workers had found a body in the old foundation just three hours ago. For now, work was postponed until the police investigation was through with the site. The foreman wasn't happy, but he had had no choice.  
Making his way through the dusty ruin, Grissom shone his flashlight along the support beams and debris. He finally arrived in the basement section where most of the walls were still standing, but the foundation as such was open. In the middle of the concrete floor was a hole.  
“Hey, Grissom. Glad you could make it."  
“Jim.”  
Jim Brass nodded at him, then gestured at the open floor section. "All yours. My guys just pinned up the tape."  
Grissom looked down the hole. It wasn't very deep, but deep enough for the concrete to hold until now. In the middle lay the partly unearthed remains of a human being. Most of the flesh had by now decayed but not all, which had resulted in an air bubble forming around the person who had met his demise here. Existing in the bubble, the skeleton had waited to be discovered -- until a worker had 'popped the lid', so to speak. It wasn't the first time they had found someone buried in concrete.  
Taking his time, Grissom collected samples and shot his photos.  
"Hey, you started the party without me."  
He looked up and smiled briefly at Catherine Willows, who looked as dusty as he felt.  
"The guests were getting ready to leave," Grissom replied.  
Catherine looked down the hole and pursed her lips. "Skeleton in concrete. Old mob victim?"  
Grissom shrugged. He was never interested in a theory this early in a case. "You find out."  
"Thanks," came the sour reply. "I take it you want me to handle it."  
He just gave her one of his smiles.  
"Well, I guess we'll wait for the coroner to get the poor guy to us, then I'll have a closer look."  
"You think it's a man?" Grissom asked curiously.  
"Or a woman. Who knows." Catherine shrugged. "No bets."

* * *

Grissom walked into the breakroom, taking in his assembled team. Nick was joking around with Warrick, munching on an apple. Grissom suppressed a smile as he recalled yesterday with his lover. Despite their currently rather crowded work schedule, they had found a few moments together – which had ended when Nick had dozed off on the couch. The only description that came to mind as Gil had watched his tired lover was 'adorable', and he had let him sleep. Of course, Nick had been slightly embarrassed about it, since he had wanted this to be their day.  
Sara was taking sips from her water bottle while keeping an eye on the TV, and Catherine was sitting on the sofa, waiting.  
"Warrick," Grissom startled his team into attention, "missing teenager. All yours."  
Brown took the slip of paper and glanced at it. "Hm, nice area. Rich people."  
"Ah, envy," Nick laughed.  
"Nah. The moment you have that much money, you lose interest in what makes life fun."  
"Nick, Sara," Grissom went on. "Breaking and entering. Dead body to top it, most likely the burglar."  
Sara took the assignment slip and checked the location. "Camp ground?" she then asked, surprised.  
"Tourist. Rented RV."  
Nick shrugged. "Okay, let's get at it."  
"Catherine and I will be working on our latest skeleton," Grissom finished, shooting Willows a brief look.  
She just nodded, smiling. The others filed out, going to their vehicles, and Grissom stowed his clipboard away.  
"Pathology?" Catherine just asked.  
Gil nodded. "Let's have a look at who we have."

* * *

"Slow night?" Catherine called as they walked into the morgue, which was empty except for the coronor, Dr. Al Robbins.  
Robbins looked up and smiled at his two visitors. "Appears so. You two coming for your skeleton?"  
She nodded. "So what's the verdict, Doc?"  
"He's dead."  
Grissom twitched a grin, eyebrows rising behind his glasses. Robbins smiled at them.  
"Other than that, Al?" Grissom prodded.  
"No fractures, no signs of stab wounds on the ribs, no gun shot wounds. His skull is intact, he's got all his teeth. So far, I can't say he was murdered."  
"He was found in the foundation of an old casino," Catherine begged to differ. "You don't end up there by accident. He didn't just fall in."  
Robbins shrugged. "I can only tell you what he didn't die of."  
"No wallet, no ID, no face." Catherine looked at the skeleton and sighed. "Terri?"  
Grissom's face showed no reaction to the name of the forensic anthropologist. "Your decision."  
"Well, you're the boss. Wasn't there something about going through you before bringing in a specialist?"  
Gil shot her a pointed look, slight annoyance crossing his features, but he didn't comment.  
"Call her if you need her," was his only remark.  
Catherine chuckled. Part of her wondered what his reaction to his former 'interest' would be -- now that he had Nick. Then again, this was Grissom. He might not even let anything show.

* * *

The morgue was silent. Grissom enjoyed the silence, the calm surroundings; it was where he worked best. No ringing phones, no people demanding he sign something or other, no colleagues asking questions. He loved his job, he had a great team, but sometimes, Grissom sought solitude. Like right now, while he was closely examining the semi-decayed skeleton.  
His only company was Dr. Al Robbins, who was working on his computer at the other end of the examination room, and the soft clicking noises didn't disturb Gil in the least.  
Dressed in his scrubs and wearing protective glasses, Grissom went over the body with a fine comb. He had taken more samples, had examined the bones for breaks, stabs or blows, and had peeled off the rest of the clothes. They had gone into Trace, just like skin samples had gone into DNA.  
Something suddenly caught Grissom’s attention and he took a closer look, turning the left arm a little. Flaps of mummified skin hung off the dry bone. A first analysis had shown that the body was at least two years old, which coincided with the last renovations in the basement of the now torn down casino. It had been a last hope to restore the ancient building to its former glory when the former management had decided to install a new heater.  
“That’s odd,” he murmured.  
“What have you found?” Robbins asked, limping over to him.  
“Check this out.” Grissom pointed toward the upper arm while holding the bones.  
“Hmm. A tattoo. From the looks of it I’d say this wasn't professional work. Maybe he did it himself.”  
Grissom pulled the magnifying glass over the brownish skin and frowned more. “Yes, but why should somebody tattoo a list of names onto his skin?”  
“Didn't want to forget it?” Robbins joked.  
Grissom's frown stayed as he looked at the coroner.  
“Or he didn't want to lose it." He let go of the arm, reached for his camera and proceeded to snap some pictures.  
"You want to check the names?" Robbins asked.  
"It's a lead."  
"Good luck."

* * *

Terri Miller arrived two hours after Catherine had placed the call. The two women exchanged some small talk as they went down into the morgue and Catherine secretly wondered why Grissom hadn't been there to greet Terri. Even with him and Nick being a steady and tight item, it wasn't like he and Terri weren't friends. Then again, she decided as she walked into the morgue, he might already be there.  
Catherine smiled at her boss and friend, who was studying the now headless remains of the unknown man with a magnifying glass.  
"Hey, Grissom."  
Gil looked up and gave both women a smile. "Catherine." His eyes came to rest on Terri. "Hello, Terri. I'm glad you could come."  
They exchanged looks and Catherine stood back, watching. Terri was married and her interest in Grissom now was purely platonic. Grissom had Nick and his interest in women, or other men, was non-existent.  
"No problem. I was actually in the area," she replied, smiling. "You look good."  
For a fraction of a second, Grissom was caught off guard. "You too," he then replied.  
Terri turned to the skull that had been placed on a separate table. It had been boiled and cleaned of all extra material, including bug shells. "So, that's him?"  
Catherine stepped forward, joining them. "Yes, that's our victim. He's all yours now."  
The anthropologist smiled. "Then let's find out what he looked like."

* * *

Grissom had taken the images from the photo lab to Questioned Documents for examination. Ronnie had promised to look at them and restore the smudged names from the tattoo as much as possible.  
Ninety minutes later Grissom received a call that it was done. Six names were now clearly written down and the next step had been to run them through the data base. Archie helped him enter the names into the search engine, but it would probably be the next day before they could expect a result.

 

* * *

"So... he found someone?"  
Catherine, who had been watching Terri work her magic, shot the blond woman a surprised look. "Who?"  
Clay was applied to the cheek bones and smoothed.  
"Gil."  
"Why do you ask?"  
Catherine felt her protective instinct rise. While Terri was a friend, she was also a former love interest of her boss', and Grissom had been quite serious about her. As serious as one Gil Grissom could get. Not counting Nick, she amended. That was different.  
So she was married now; to a teacher. It didn't mean she wouldn't feel something... negative about Grissom's interest in a male partner.  
"He's different, Catherine," Terri answered, looking through her tools and choosing a new one to carve out the facial features according to the bone structure. "I can't really put it into words and we only met briefly just now, but he's.... Let's say he doesn't look at me like a deer caught in the headlights. He's more balanced, if that makes any sense."  
Oh, it did. Nick was very good for Grissom. He was more like his former self, before he had been saddled with the additional responsibilities after Brass had been forced to leave. He smiled more, the mischievous twinkle was back, he laughed, he was... yes, balanced.  
"It does," Catherine agreed. "And he is."  
"Good for him."  
She picked a pair of glass eyes and looked critically at them, then placed the orbs next to the mostly finished head.  
"He's happy," Terri remarked quietly.  
Catherine shot her a frown and the other woman smiled as she saw it.  
"I'm happy that he is, Catherine. I found my own happiness, and while it wasn't him, I still treasure him as a friend. We weren't meant to be. Grissom is a unique man, with unique needs. He fascinated me, but I found that while I like my job, he is his job."  
Willows smiled again. Very accurate description.  
"So whoever he would find, he would have to be special. Would have to understand him completely."  
Part of Catherine froze. 'He'? Was it just a mistake or did she actually suspect...?  
Terri didn't look at her. She was putting the finishing touches to the head. A wig completed the picture.  
"Here he is."  
Catherine took the camera and snapped a few pictures of the brown-haired, blue-eyed man with the prominent cheek bones. Well, it was a start.

* * *

Grissom had had an uneventful day. Nick wasn't staying over due to the fact that he had someone coming to fix a leak. They hadn't seen much of each other in the last few days, except for a little hello and good-bye kiss. Grissom planned to make it up to his lover soon, but the cases had priority, and his own was starting to become quite interesting.  
Catherine had given the photo from the reconstructed face to the local TV station, hoping to find someone through the media who recognized the man. So far, no luck. Unlike last time with Faith Green, the hotlines had yielded no viable results. Still, the police followed every lead.  
The results from the search engine, which trickled in one by one, didn’t do much to enlighten the situation either. Archie had outdone himself with the parameters, including every known data base. So far, results had come back from universities and the military enlistment, as well as the national police data base. Three of the men were missing, one of them declared dead four years ago, two had died in accidents ten and three years ago. Grissom went through the results and his puzzlement grew. Why should a man tattoo himself a list of names into his arm, names of people who seemed to be dead for a long time now?  
The only common ground so far had been from their student time. All had attended the same university in St. Louis. He filed that away for later as he requested more information on all the names.  
It would take a while, he knew.

* * *

It was late -- for a nightshift CSI. Immersed in his work, Grissom had ignored time and had only taken a break when his body had reminded him that food would be appreciated.  
Gil picked up the last folder in the stack. The moment he opened the old file he felt a familiar tingle rush through his body – a well known sign that something was deeply wrong. When his gaze fell on the old photograph of the young man, it wasn’t just a simple feeling anymore – he knew.  
He had seen this man before, on a picture as well, but on that one he had been alive and smiling, while having wrapped his best friend’s and lover’s arm around his shoulder. He had never come to know the man’s full name.  
It was Thomas Morrison.  
The man his colleague Conrad Ecklie had lost twenty years ago to suicide.  
A closer look at the picture made Grissom’s frown deepen. There was something not right about this.  
He put his glasses on and studied the old pictures one after another.  
Grissom pursed his lips in concentration, flipping through the report once more.  
And then he realized what had troubled him.

 

“Hey, boss. Buried yourself in a case again? It’s almost midmorning.”  
Nick peered through the open door of his lover’s office, gesturing toward files piling up on his desk. He smiled tolerantly at the sight.  
“Ah, Nicky, you’re here, great. Would you take a look at this and tell me what you see?”  
Nick stepped closer, taking the photo out of Grissom’s hand and looking at it with a frown.  
“Old case?”  
“Related to a new one.”  
“Ah.”  
“Well?”  
“Hm, the angle's not that good, but from what I see – several fractures, blood spatter – a murder victim, pushed or shoved from a greater height. Building?”  
“Ten floors, roof.”  
“Ouch. The killer found?”  
“It was considered suicide.”  
Nick looked baffled. “No way. I mean, how old is that case? Fifteen, twenty years? Even then CSIs knew how to work.”  
“I know what you mean. The CSIs were doing their job. The police weren’t. Take a look at the tox report.”  
Nick worked through the file and whistled at a special note.  
“No way that guy jumped, not with this amount of alcohol and cannabis in his system, not even if he was a regular user. I bet he was out of it when he was on that roof. Why was it considered suicide?”  
“The circumstances, plus they had a suicide note.”  
“Damn.”  
“My sentiment exactly.”  
"Grissom! Don't you have enough work? Do you need to dig out old cases?”  
The sharp voice startled Nick out of his studies and the door banging shut did nothing to help settle his shock.  
The slight flash of alarm that went over Grissom’s face would have passed by unnoticed, hadn’t it been for Nick’s knowledge of his lover, and he frowned. It couldn’t be just because of Ecklie's sharp question – that was something they were used to. So what …? The next second he heard a somewhat strangled sound from the dayshift supervisor as he glanced at the open files, and Stokes looked up to see Ecklie grow pale.  
“What the hell are you thinking, Grissom? That was private,” Ecklie all but whispered hoarsely. Grissom hesitated for a brief second before he tossed the file at his colleague.  
“Look at it, Conrad. From a professional point of view,” he suggested quietly.  
And then something happened Nick hadn't ever believed he’d see: Conrad Ecklie hesitated before he did as Grissom advised, examining the picture in front of him. Seconds later the dayshift supervisor paled even more, grabbing the desk for support as he seemed to see what Nick had seen before. He pulled a chair close for the other man because Ecklie looked as if he’d collapse at any minute.  
“Did Thomas do drugs, Conrad?” Grissom queried calmly, and suddenly Nick understood, remembering a talk he had with this man not too long ago. A lover, committing suicide a long time ago – Thomas Morrison. No wonder the man was reacting this badly.  
“You never saw this.” Nick stated, and Ecklie shook his head.  
“Couldn’t. And no, Tom didn’t do drugs. Why?”  
Grissom silently pointed toward the tox report. Nick swallowed at the color Ecklie’s face turned while he was reading. He had seen this shade of gray just once – and that guy had been dead.  
“He was drunk,“ Ecklie managed to get out finally, not reacting when Nick pulled the folder from his fingers.  
“He didn’t drink. And he didn’t smoke … “  
“The cannabis was found in his digestive system.”  
“He swallowed it? No way. Tom wouldn’t have done such a thing. He couldn’t tolerate it … said he tried it once and it … god.”  
“Conrad.” Grissom said quietly. “He didn’t commit suicide. He was killed.”  
Nick gasped at the haunted look Ecklie shot at Grissom when understanding finally set in. This man had seen his lover die in front of his very eyes, believing for twenty years he had jumped, killed himself – and hadn't dared to question it.  
And now he was being told he had witnessed his lover’s murder.  
“Ecklie? You okay?” Nick carefully put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.  
Ecklie sat there, frozen, for another second before he shrugged it off and rose. When he looked at the two men his face was all but a mask, the momentary lapse hidden beneath professionalism again.  
“I will be. Once you find who did this. And why.”  
Leaving two very stunned CSIs behind Ecklie rushed out. Exchanging glances Nick sank into the chair.  
“Whoa,” he muttered.  
“You could say that again, Nick.”  
"Whoa," Nick repeated, grinning slightly.  
It earned him an amused look, but the amusement was drowned by the worried frown on Grissom's forehead.

* * *

Nick shrugged out of his soiled shirt and grimaced. He had liked that one, but now it was a lost cause. There was mud all over it, and something he didn't want to think about too closely. It stank, pure and simple, and he doubted he could rescue the shirt. So he stuffed it into the plastic bag he had brought along and threw it away.  
"Hey, Nick."  
Nick looked up and smiled at Dave Jennings, one of the dayshift guys. "Hey, Dave. You're early."  
"You're late, Nick. It's nine."  
Nick looked at his watch and grimaced in disgust. "Great. Watch broke."  
Jennings chuckled, then grew serious. He looked around the still empty room and leaned against his own locker. "Nick, can I ask you something?"  
The way Dave's voice had dropped, the seriousness in his tone, had Nick stop what he was doing and look at him.  
"Sure."  
"It's about Ecklie."  
That brought Nick up sharp. "Ecklie?" he asked warily.  
"Listen, I know you guys don't really get along too well. I mean, he can be an asshole, sure. But he's... I dunno... Lately, he's different. I mean, Harris saw him come out of Grissom's office and he didn't look too good. Not that he ever does look good when he and your boss clash, but that was... strange." Jennings looked uncomfortable. "I mean, he's been burying himself in some old file when he's not on a case. And yesterday, just before the end of shift, Kramer confessed to him about messing up some test, that he has to do it again, and we were waiting for Ecklie to reprimand him or something... Nick, he didn't. He just looked at him, told him to be more careful and thorough next time, then he left."  
Nick blinked. Ecklie was as much a perfectionist as Grissom was. One of his people making a mistake would earn the person in question some stern words.  
"What happened in that office, Nick?" Dave asked.  
"I don't know," Nick heard himself answer. Of course he knew; he knew more than Dave would ever know about his own supervisor, but it wasn't for him to tell.  
"We're worried," Jennings confessed.  
"Yeah. I mean, I'd be worried, too. If it were Grissom." Then again, Gil was a model of preoccupation even when nothing was wrong.  
Jennings sighed and pushed away from the locker. "Listen, if you hear anything from your boss, let me know? I mean, you might not like Ecklie, but he's our supervisor and I consider him a good colleague. He's not as bad as many think. Grissom just rubs him the wrong way." He flashed Nick an apologetic smile.  
Stokes nodded. "Will do, Dave," he lied.  
It wasn't that he disliked Ecklie; not anymore. The animosity from before had given way to sympathy. It was just that the truth was none of the dayshift's business.  
Jennings left and Nick finished changing, then grabbed his car keys and left the building. He had to talk to Grissom.

* * *

Grissom walked through the silent corridors, deep in thought. His conversation with Nick just this morning was going through his head. His lover had told him about his talk with Jennings, the dayshift's worry about Ecklie, and Grissom knew it was only a matter of time until Conrad Ecklie's emotional balance would falter. He had been told that the man he had loved had not committed suicide, had actually been killed, and he had lived with the lie for twenty years. It gnawed at his soul; at least it would at Grissom's if he were in Ecklie's shoes.  
Entering the break room, he found what he had been expecting to see there: Ecklie, pouring over files, reading the old reports, and from the looks of it, his dayshift colleague hadn't had a good night. Or day.  
"You're early, Grissom," Ecklie said in ways of a greeting, dark eyes briefly looking up, then down at the reports again.  
"I have some things to catch up on. What's your excuse?"  
Again, the other man looked up, eyes narrowing. He looked pale but composed, with only a hint of exhaustion. It could be attributed to a harrying day, but Grissom knew better. He nodded at the spread photos and files.  
"What are you looking for, Conrad?"  
"Answers."  
"We all are. But it's my case," Grissom told him with a gentle reprimand.  
"I know that!"  
"And you're personally involved."  
A glare met his blue gaze. "That never stopped you in the past."  
"No, it didn't. But this goes deep, Conrad."  
"Don't you think I know that? Tom was killed! I never thought to question the official reports, but looking at the evidence... how could the investigators have been so fucking blind!"  
Anger poured off the man; anger and frustration, and a deep set pain.  
"I know," Grissom just replied calmly. "But it's no longer a closed case. We're looking into it, and I promise you that it isn't just a case for us."  
Ecklie inhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. "Yeah. I know." He scrubbed his hands over his face, shaky and tired. "I've been trying to remember the day... I know what I felt, I can remember looking at the body... and feeling everything from panic to fear to anger to desperation. I can't really remember if there was anything before... and I can't remember much of what happened afterwards, when the police asked everyone questions."  
"That's normal, Conrad. It's how the mind copes with stress."  
"I know that, Grissom!" Ecklie snapped, eyes blazing. "I can read what I said back then in the police files and it was crap!"  
Gil gave him a mild look, quite aware of the rising emotional tide.  
"I lived with Tom for three years! We were room mates... best friends, and we became lovers…"  
"You were in the same dormitory or fraternity?"  
Ecklie chuckled. "No. Actually, I couldn't get a dorm room because I was too late. And all other places were taken up. It was sheer luck that I ran into Tom, who was looking for a room mate for his apartment. That was me. He was in a fraternity, I wasn't. He studied Law, came from a family with money to spare, and I was looking into sciences. Tom actually got me interested in biochemistry."  
He shrugged, lost in thought.  
"I just can't get it straight in my head, Grissom. I believed he had killed himself for so long... and now I see the truth, and it just doesn't fit! Why would anyone kill Tom? Why only him? Why not me, too? And I'm trying to remember if he told me anything that could give me a clue! There's nothing!"  
Grissom sat down opposite his colleague. "It's been twenty years, Conrad."  
Ecklie inhaled shakily, trying to compose himself.  
"And it still hurts," Grissom went on gently. "It'll continue hurting, but we'll try to find out what happened back then."  
"You said it yourself, Gil," Ecklie said softly. "Twenty years. A very long time. Half of my lifetime. We might never know."  
Grissom smiled slightly. "Maybe, maybe not."  
The dark eyes met his and Ecklie gave him a wan smile. "At least I now know he didn't kill himself. It's more than before."  
Grissom nodded. He looked at the old files, the decades old crime scene photos.  
"After Thomas, did you ever have a relationship again?“  
Ecklie stared at his fellow CSI, flabbergasted by the question. Grissom was a direct man, but he still managed to surprise him now and then.  
"No. Not really,“ he confessed after a second.  
"Did you consider it?“  
"Only once. Several years back.“  
Grissom gave him one of those mildly curious looks that could mean everything.  
"I met someone I was drawn to,“ Ecklie went on. "Someone at work.“  
Now an eyebrow rose.  
"Younger than me, fresh in from a transfer. I never talked much to him. It was his looks. He was drop-dead handsome.“ Ecklie briefly closed his eyes and steeled himself as he said the next words. "But my courage failed me and later on … I no longer had the chance. Someone else took it.“  
Their eyes met and Grissom’s widened as realization hit him. The two men looked silently at each other, understanding in Gil’s eyes, acceptance in Ecklie’s.  
"Don’t worry,“ Ecklie said softly. "I won’t take a shot now. It was a once-in-a-lifetime-chance. It’s over.“  
With that he rose, leaving a stunned Gil Grissom behind.

* * *

He arrived at Nick's place at eight, which was a very early time for him to get off work. Catherine had actually dragged him out with her, claiming that work wasn't running away. Two year old corpses could wait a day longer.  
Gil unlocked the door and walked into the townhouse, smiling as he discovered his freshly showered lover puttering around in the kitchen. Nick's hair was still damp and in disarray, he was bare-chested and bare-footed, his legs covered by sweat pants.  
"Hey, Gil," he greeted him as Grissom walked over to the kitchen. "Coffee?"  
"Decaf?"  
"'Course. I wanna catch some shut-eye after all."  
Grissom took the mug out of Nick's hands, put it onto the kitchen counter, then wrapped an arm around the slender waist to pull him close into a kiss. It had been supposed to be a brief one, but suddenly Nick's lips opened under the pressure and his tongue brushed over Grissom's lips. Gil answered the questing tongue and held his lover tightly.  
They separated and Grissom inhaled the fresh smell of his lover, the aroma of his shampoo, and he briefly closed his eyes. For some reason, his imagination dragged up the image of Conrad Ecklie and Nick Stokes as a couple, and his arms tightened possessively.  
"Hey," Nick whispered softly. "You okay?"  
Grissom steadied himself and opened his eyes. "Yes."  
"Bad day?"  
"Not really, no."  
Inquisitive brown eyes sought out his own and Grissom let his head fall against the warm, bare shoulder. Nick's arms came around him, holding him tight. After a moment, Grissom raised his head again, smiling wanly.  
"Maybe it was a bad day after all."  
"Yeah, maybe," Nick murmured, gazing thoughtfully at him. "You staying?"  
Grissom nodded.  
"You wanna grab a shower or have breakfast first?"  
"Not hungry. I'll just shower, then get some sleep."  
Nick chuckled. "Okay. I think I'll join you. After breakfast." He nodded at a bowl of cereal with fruits.

 

Grissom stepped under the shower, letting the warm water relax him, but his mind still turned over the revelation from his colleague. Ecklie had been interested in Nick. Years ago, true. Way before Nick had chosen him. But something deep inside him was chewing on that. It wasn't jealousy; Ecklie wouldn't try anything and Nick... wasn't actually interested.  
Right?  
Imagining Nick and Ecklie together short-circuited his brain. It wasn't possible; not a likely picture. Grissom almost had to laugh. Of course not. Nick loved him. He had told him so over and over again. Then again, who would have thought it possible that a handsome man like Nick Stokes would ever choose Gil Grissom as his lover?  
Grissom inhaled sharply. What was this?  
Your own insecurity, a soft voice reminded him. You still think it's too good to be true, but it is true. You know it. You know he loves you, wants you, needs you -- and you feel the same.  
He left the shower and walked into the bedroom where Nick had already changed into his pajama bottoms. His younger lover looked up and smiled at him. The smile dropped a little as he took in Grissom's expression.  
"Gil? What's wrong?"  
He inhaled deeply. "Nothing, really."  
"Wanna try again?"  
"It's something... personal. Not my personal something; someone else's."  
Nick pulled him into bed and close to him, with Grissom's head resting against one shoulder. "Ecklie?" he hazarded a guess, voice quiet.  
Once again, Grissom was startled by the sharp mind and perceptiveness of his lover. "Yes."  
"Bad?"  
"No, just something... that stayed on my mind."  
"Can't share?"  
"Not really."  
"Okay." Nick kissed him tenderly. "Sleep?"  
Grissom nodded and both men sank into a comfortable position together, Nick still loosely holding his older lover. Grissom stroked over the naked skin, not trying to arouse, just wanting the contact. Nick fell asleep soon, but Grissom stayed awake a while longer, thinking.  
Finally, his exhausted mind shut down.

* * *

Grissom walked through the expansive corridors of the criminalistics building, a coffee in one hand, a clipboard in the other. He was reading over the notes clipped to it, almost instinctively evading whoever was crossing his way. As he neared his office, he glanced up and found Terri Miller smiling back at him. She stood in the doorway to the breakroom, wearing her coat and holding a traveling bag.  
"Oh, hello," Grissom managed, dragging his mind out of the case notes he had been reviewing.  
"Hello, Gil," she replied, the smile still present.  
He looked at the traveling bag. "You're leaving already?"  
Terri shrugged. "I'm done here."  
Grissom looked at her, trying to make up his mind. "Well, yes," he finally said. "You are. And I know dinner is out of the question." He shot the anthropologist a fine smile.  
Terri chuckled. "I think we figured that out a while ago."  
"And you're married."  
"That, too. I doubt I'd have a chance with you any more, even if there wasn't someone waiting back home."  
Grissom blinked, frowning.  
"You're different from the last time we met, Gil," Terri said softly. "You found someone and I'm happy for you."  
"I…"  
She shook her head, smiling more. "You don't have to explain yourself, least of all to me. I'm happy with my choices and looking at you, you are happy with yours. You found the one person who fits you perfectly, Gil. Hold onto him."  
Grissom's mind blanked momentarily with her words and a slight curl of an undefined emotions spread through him.  
"Terri…" he managed.  
She stepped closer to him. "No one told me anything. From the way Catherine looked at me, she knows him. I don't have to. Call it a woman's intuition." She shrugged. "What's important is that he makes you happy, whoever he is. Good-bye."  
And with that she walked down the corridor and disappeared around the next corner. Grissom stood rooted to the spot, speechless.

*

Catherine sat in front of the computer, frowning at the screen. On the monitor, a list of people slowly scrolled past. She stopped, then scrolled back, clicked on a link, then scanned the much shorter list. Sharp eyes compared the names on the screen to the names on her print-out.  
"Got something?"  
She looked over her shoulder and smiled briefly at her supervisor. "Hey, Gil. I went through the university register since all the dead or missing people on the tattoo name list went to the same university at one time in their lives. Made me wonder. It's the only common mark so far." She pointed at the screen. "There's another commonality. Alpha Psi Omega."  
"Fraternity?" Grissom wanted to know.  
"Bingo. Small, exclusive, picky. Compared to every other fraternity, they have the least members and only take on a few every year. They never had any trouble with the Dean, never had anyone fall out of line, and their students reach top grades. All our tattoo guys went there, were members and left the university to go to better places."  
Grissom frowned, then handed her a new print-out. "We found our dead man's name and last home address."  
She looked at the picture. "James Cunnings, 40. Local. That's from Missing Persons, right? Someone called in?"  
He nodded. "Yes. His wife saw it on the news. Care for a ride?"  
Catherine pushed back from the desk. "Sure."

 

Ten minutes later, the two criminalists were on their way, accompanied by Detective Sam Vega.

* * *

Grissom couldn't shake the odd feeling he had throughout the visit to the Cunnings household. Suzanne Cunnings, now a widow, had been rather composed, though there had been tears lurking in her eyes. Her husband had been missing for over two years, she had always feared the worst, but now it had been confirmed. He was dead, probably killed.  
No enemies, neither private nor at work, a secure job at a local company, and their own home, which was already paid for. Apparently James Cunnings had worked in New York for years, where he had also met his wife and where their son and daughter had been born, and had moved to Las Vegas a year before he had disappeared. Suzanne didn't know all the reasons for the job switch, but there hadn't been a change in income and he had had more time for the family, so she had happily accepted the move.  
While Catherine and Vega still talked to the woman, Grissom began to look around the house. It was spacious and had a nice little piece of property attached to it. He walked through the living room, which took in most of the ground floor, past the kitchen, then went up the open stairs to the first floor. Cunnings had had money; that much was clear from the whole house.  
Looking at the pictures on the wall, Grissom saw a dark-haired man with probably gray-blue or blue eyes smiling at him. Sometimes he stood alone in front of a landmark or some landscape background, sometimes he was joined by his wife and/or kids.  
As he turned away from the pictures, he found he was under close scrutiny by a girl. She was in her teens, maybe fifteen or sixteen, dressed in jeans, a bright orange shirt, and her blonde hair was messed up in a professional way. She seemed to be looking for something in him as she tilted her head, frowning.  
"You're like Dad."  
"Excuse me?"  
Another penetrating stare. "You're like my father. He was a witch... you're... different but you feel the same."  
A cold shiver raced through Grissom. Only once before had someone looked at him like this, but with less intensity. His name was Charlie Tucker and he was a student at the Gilbert College for the Deaf.  
"What are you?" the girl asked.  
"Who are you?" Grissom asked his own question.  
"I'm Zoe Theresa Emily Cunnings." She shrugged. "I think my Dad got a kick out of giving me granny's first names, too."  
The daughter, Grissom thought, giving her a smile.  
"Hello, Zoe."  
"And I know what you are," she went on, undeterred. "I just can't pinpoint it exactly. You're a paranormal."  
Grissom gazed at her, drawn between just walking away and simply staying and talking to the girl. He decided on the latter.  
"I'm a Phoenix."  
Zoe's eyes widened. "Wow. You're really rare. Way cool!"  
He smiled. "I know. So your father was a witch?"  
She nodded. "He was really, really good. Not like a warlock but close to it. I mean, he could kick a young warlock's ass if you know what I mean."  
"Does your mother know?"  
"Sure. I mean, after I showed my own talents, he told her. It was quite a shock. I'm a Seeker, you know. My brother hasn't developed any kind of powers yet, but he's ten. Boys are slower." She chuckled briefly.  
Grissom smiled. He hadn't known about himself for more than forty years.  
"Dad was killed, right?" Zoe suddenly asked, her whole demeanor serious.  
"It appears so." How could you kill a magic user? "I'm sorry."  
Zoe's serious eyes met his. "It's okay. I mean, he disappeared two years ago and it wasn't like he and Mom had a fight or anything. I knew something was wrong, but… we… what could I do? At least now we know."  
"Zoe, before your father disappeared, did you notice any changes in his behavior?"  
The girl frowned and chewed on her lower lip. "He was kinda nervous. And we had this freaky guy over one evening. Dad sent me and Peter upstairs. Peter's my brother."  
Grissom nodded.  
"But I spied. I mean, I don't do it often, but you know, the guy was way weird. Total freak. He was a paranormal, too."  
"What did they talk about?"  
"Don't know." Zoe shrugged. "But the freaky guy wasn't here long. Dad was really scared after he was gone."  
"What did the man look like?"  
"Uh… he was old. I mean, at least thirty."  
Grissom's eyebrows twitched at that and he smiled. Zoe just shrugged.  
"He was blond. Kinda pale. And he had a really bad sense of dress."  
"What kind of paranormal was he?"  
"Witch. Like Dad. Oh, and he was wearing a ring. Dad has the same. He showed it to me once. I think it's ugly, but it meant something to him from school."  
Grissom's inner alarm bell rung. "A fraternity ring?"  
"Yeah. Maybe. Probably. Dad never wore his. It's big and has these symbols on top. Alpha, omega and a psi overlaid on both."  
"Thank you, Zoe. You were a big help."  
"Sure." She shrugged again. "Whatever. Just get the guy, okay?"  
"I'll do my best."  
Grissom went back downstairs where Catherine and Vega were already done.  
"Anything?" Catherine asked as they left the house.  
"I talked to the daughter. She said our victim had a visitor before he disappeared. He was apparently an old friend of Mr. Cunnings; at least he was in the same fraternity. We might want to look at who was with the fraternity at the time Mr. Cunnings studied in St. Louis."  
Catherine shrugged. "Okay, I'll get to it. We have no other leads anyway."  
For her, that much was true. For Grissom, a whole new world had just opened up. And it was a world where he and Nick were a part of.

* * *

In a way, it still worked inside Grissom -- the knowledge that Conrad Ecklie had once been interested in his partner. Reason told Gil that Nick wasn't interested, that they were exclusive, but fear had a say in it, too.  
Their love-making that morning was slow and gentle, but also possessive and needy, and Grissom was reluctant to leave his lover's body. He stayed, wrapped around the muscular form, feeling the heart beat under his hands where they rested on the warm chest. He stroked and calmed the other man, placing gentle kisses on his shoulder blade. Gil nibbled at the slight mark he had left when his own climax had nearly shattered him, the intensity shocking him. But it had also freed something inside. He and Nick were bound together, by more than their abilities as paranormals -- and Grissom didn't consider the ability to come back from the dead a great and useful talent; it still hurt. Nothing could ever be like this; with no one. Grissom knew there would never be anyone else; Nick had taken that empty spot inside his soul and he fit perfectly, seamlessly.  
Nick caught the wandering hands and interlaced their fingers. He knew something was up, but he hadn't asked any more. He trusted in Grissom to share if he could. It humbled Gil, it made him want to show this wonderful man how much he appreciated him, loved him, needed him, but he didn't know how. There was a lot he felt that he couldn't put into words.  
After some time, Grissom slipped free and Nick turned to him, caressing his face, dark brown eyes full of warmth and love. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, then Grissom was pulled close, his head resting against Nick's shoulder.  
"I love you," Nick murmured. "Whatever it is, I love you, Gil. I'm not going anywhere; I'm here."  
Grissom closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.  
"I know you can't share, but it's bothering you -- whatever it is." Gentle hands caressed the nape of his neck. "Something about the case is getting to you."  
He nodded slowly.  
"Want me to ask Ecklie again?"  
"He wouldn't tell you," Grissom answered softly. "Not this time. It was very personal."  
"Okay."  
A kiss was placed onto his head.  
Grissom tilted his head up and caught the pliable lips, diving into the warmth and affection, their tongues dancing leisurely with each other. Nick moaned as Grissom's hands moved over his back and further down, caressing him intimately. Pushing past fears aside, concentrating on what he had and had had for so long now, Grissom continued to arouse his lover until Nick fell back against the pillow, eyes closed. He let the sensations of his lover's mouth and hands slowly bringing him to a new peak flood him, breathing hard, body twitching, and Grissom soaked it all in.  
His. Nick was his. No one else's.  
And if that made him possessive, so be it.

* * *

Two cases interfered, but Grissom never lost track of the most important one. While Catherine had declared it a lost cause with only dead ends, Grissom privately begged to differ. Officially he would have to close it sooner or later, with a marker that it was unsolved.  
"You think all of them were paranormals because they were in this fraternity?" Nick asked, frowning slightly as he paged through the file.  
They were sitting in the breakroom, Chinese take-out in front of them, each with a soda, and going over cases. Nick had just close the one he had been working on with Warrick, a burglary, and Grissom had told him about his latest ideas concerning the Cunnings case.  
Grissom looked thoughtful. "I don't have enough evidence to prove it, but the fact is that all of them were at the same university and in the same fraternity, then went on to high positions in different businesses. From zero to everything in no time."  
Nick nodded. "You said Thomas had been offered a high position and suddenly it was revoked. Back then he and Ecklie thought it was because they had been discovered."  
"Yes, but looking at it now, I'm not so sure that was the real reason. Tom was unable to get any kind of job after the outing, even the smallest one in a less than prestigious firm."  
"Sounds bogey. I mean, gay people are hired, too."  
"Exactly."  
"So someone engineered it?"  
Grissom picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork with his chopsticks, shrugging. "Possible. For now, all we have is the strange coincidence of all victims sharing the same educational background and at least three are paranormals. Two have been confirmed dead, and both were killed."  
"So the others on that list might have been killed, too." Nick shook his head. "Why tattoo their names on your arm?"  
"We might never know."  
"What now?"  
Grissom pursed his lips. "I was thinking about employing some… paranormal help."  
Nick raised his eyebrows. "Who? Ezra? Or Chris?"  
"No. I was thinking about Ms. Kunene. She's a Shaman and from what I understood of their position, they watch the going-ons in the world of the paranormal. If there is someone who might be able to find out about these people, it's a Shaman."  
Nick looked doubtful. "You trust her with this?"  
"Yes."  
Simple as that. Nick accepted it just as easily.  
"Okay."  
Warrick walking into the breakroom with his empty coffee interrupted them and the conversation turned to Brown's complicated investigation into a murder where there seemed to be no leads, no viable suspects, and only half a body.

* * *

Nandi Kidja Kunene was the Manager of the Shaman Casino and Hotel, owned by none other than Ezra Standish, the vampire community leader of Salt Lake City, and Grissom had met her before. She was a tall, black woman with long, braided hair and a pleasant face and demeanor. As usual, she was dressed in a business suit that seemed to be a mix between the conventional business type and something of an African origin.  
"Mr. Grissom," she greeted him, her voice dark and smooth. "How can I help you?"  
Grissom took a seat and retrieved the file that contained what information he had from his bag.  
"I come here in a semi-official matter and with a request. I'm working on a case that has revealed the involvement of at least three paranormals, two of them witches and one unknown, over a longer period of time. Two of the three are dead and I suspect more have been killed and all were paranormals of one kind or another."  
Grissom saw he had Nandi's complete attention and launched into a detailed report of how the case had started, what they had found out, down to the names of the people and what Zoe Cunnings had told him about the witch who had visited her father, a strong witch himself.  
Nandi listened quietly, never interrupting. When Grissom was finished, she looked at the list, thoughtful and still silent.  
"I will look into this matter, Mr. Grissom. You're right that the involvement of the paranormal is rather strong. I never heard of any of these people in connection to anything the Shamans had to deal with. I can't promise you anything."  
"I don't expect promises, Ms. Kunene," he replied quietly.  
She smiled. "I'll call you if I discover something that might help you in finding the killer or killers."  
He nodded. "Thank you for your time."  
Grissom left not much later, his way taking him through the casino, and he wondered just how many paranormals were around him, how many of them were vampires, and if he stood out to them in some way or another. But no one paid him any closer attention.  
He drove back to the lab and continued his work just the same as before.

* * *

It took a week for Nandi to come back to him. In that time, the old case of Tom Morrison and the new one of James Cunnings were on the backburner. Not for Ecklie of course, but the man had himself under more control than before. It didn't necessarily mean that his shift was no longer worried about him. Ecklie worked like an automaton and where he would have looked for another political step stone for his career, he now completed his cases and went to the next. In a way, he was more human than before, but it was also worrisome. He hadn't approached Grissom again, but there were times the nightshift supervisor saw his colleague look at him, asking a silent question. And the answer was always he same. No news.  
That changed when the call came in. Grissom agreed to meet Nandi at the Shaman again.  
"You were right, Mr. Grissom," she told him after the initial pleasantries. "Those people were all paranormals. Most of them were magic-users of some kind, one was a Trigger."  
"Who?"  
"Tom Morrison."  
Grissom showed no outside reaction, but inside, he felt for Ecklie. His lover had been a paranormal. And maybe it was the reason he had had to die.  
"Mr. Grissom, what I'm going to tell you now can't ever reach the wrong ears. It is a matter of paranormal origin and we, the Shamans, will take care of the matter. I'm only telling you this because I believe you wouldn't drop the case otherwise."  
"You're right. I won't. Part of this is a personal matter."  
Nandi nodded. "We followed the leads you had and discovered that the Alpha Psi Omega fraternity is not only a very exclusive one, but it was also founded and financed by a very influential former student. All students of the fraternity were screened and approved by him. All of them were paranormals."  
"Like him?"  
"No, this man isn't in any way like us. He is human. No extras." The Shaman smiled briefly. "But he discovered that there is more out there than meets the eye, and he used the young men and women for his own purposes. We followed every single student who ever left the university and was a Psi; all worked or still work for this man's companies or for one of his competitors. My fellow Shamans are still carefully investigating this fraternity, but it seems that the person in question, the one who financed it and still does, used the young paranormals for his own cause. Computer fraud and manipulation, blackmail, illegal business transactions.... He used their talents, made them loyal to him, and those who didn't follow... they were killed."  
Grissom's face was a mask, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Who is it?"  
"I can't tell you. It's our business. We'll see to it that justice is served," Nandi answered calmly.  
Grissom didn't like it, but he had to accept the fact. "So Tom had to die because he didn't want to work for this man?"  
"Most likely. Like all the others who have turned up dead."  
Grissom felt anger rise, his temper flaring briefly, but he got it under control. "Now what?"  
"It's up to you. You know you can't write it into any of your reports."  
"Of course."  
It would most likely be an unsolved case, Grissom thought. Only he and Nick would know the truth; his lover was the only other person he could tell.  
"You mentioned Mr. Ecklie's name," Nandi went on. "He was Morrison's partner when he was killed."  
Grissom sighed silently. "Yes."  
"Will you tell him?"  
"He has a right to know."  
"Even if it means introducing him to our world, risking exposure?"  
He met the dark eyes calmly. "I trust Conrad Ecklie."  
The smile on Nandi's face was slightly sarcastic. "There is trust and then there is trust. You and he, you don't see eye to eye."  
He raised an eyebrow and the Shaman chuckled.  
"We're keeping an eye on our local pair of rare paranormals, Mr. Grissom. You and Mr. Stokes."  
Wonderful, Grissom thought.  
"Conrad Ecklie is your dayshift counterpart, and he doesn't like you very much. Actually, he has been using whatever he has been able to find in the past to put you down."  
"Things have changed," Grissom replied calmly. "I'm very much aware of our past, but I know what I'm doing."  
She regarded him silently, eyes intense. "It's your decision, Mr. Grissom."  
Yes, it was his decision. He had promised Ecklie to tell him what he found out and somehow, Grissom was reluctant to lie to the other man. Tom had been the best that had ever happened to Conrad Ecklie and he had suffered a massive blow through his death. Grissom suspected that the man Ecklie was today resulted from those events surrounding Morrison's death. Even now, it hurt. He recalled Ecklie's expression in the breakroom, how close the emotions had been to the surface, and he knew that in Ecklie's place, he would want to know.  
But still... could he risk exposing this other world?

* * *

Nick leaned against Grissom's kitchen island and watched his lover. "So he was a paranormal?"  
Gil nodded. "Thomas Morrison was a Trigger. He could activate a paranormal's gift if it hadn't developed on its own."  
"I doubt Ecklie knew."  
Grissom smiled wryly. "Highly doubtful indeed."  
"Will you tell him?"  
"I don't know. Would he want to know?"  
Nick sighed. "We know why his lover died. We know he was killed by that guy, or at least by people he had hired to take out the unwanted. How do you explain to him all the facts without mentioning just why Tom had to die?"  
"I know, I know. It's hard. I wouldn't be able to construe any kind of explanation without catching myself in my own lies."  
"Maybe you should give him the choice," Nick remarked.  
Grissom sighed. "Yes, maybe. But curiosity is a strong feeling. He might decide he wants to know, then regret it."  
Nick stepped up to him and wrapped his arms around the other man from behind, resting his chin on Grissom's shoulder. "I know it's a stupid thing to say, but this is your decision. You have to make it."  
Grissom leaned into his partner's embrace with a sigh. Yes, he had to make it. Soon.  
And then realization struck him. Nandi trusted him to make this decision, to take the responsibility and deal with it. He would reveal a new world to Ecklie, and while no one would believe the dayshift supervisor should he tell it someone else, it was a risk.  
And it was up to him.

* * *

“Conrad.”  
The other man looked up from what he was doing, shooting Grissom a look that was a mix between annoyed and curious. Only Ecklie could pull it off, Grissom mused, leaning in the doorway and wondering if he had made the right decision. It had taken all his courage to approach his colleague with the news.  
It had been hard on Ecklie already to learn that the man he had loved and seen dying so many had been killed. It could do unforeseeable things to him to learn why. Nandi had asked Grissom if he trusted Ecklie enough to reveal the truth and their secret, and Grissom had found the answer was surprisingly yes, he did. Some months ago he wouldn’t have, but things had changed, his view of Conrad Ecklie had changed.  
And maybe even Ecklie himself.  
“Gil.”  
The man looked like hell. Still – after over a week had gone by since their last, serious conversation. It wasn't obvious at first glance, but the pallor, the dull eyes that spoke of little sleep, and the deeper lines in his face. Everything was still eating away at him.  
And Grissom made a decision.  
“We know now.”  
He didn’t have to explain more. From the slight change in the other man’s expression he knew that Ecklie understood. He stepped into the office and closed the door.  
“Tell me.”  
Tell him. It sounded so simply, but it was too complicated. Grissom had no idea how to start. Thinking back to his own introduction into the paranormal, he thought it had been easier. He had been personally affected; Ecklie’s involvement had begun and ended twenty years ago, and even then he had never really been involved – just a friend, a bystander… a lover.  
“Conrad, there is more to this than just a simple murder. Much more. And it goes very far. Thomas…“  
“What was he involved in? What did he get himself into, Grissom?”  
Grissom shook his head. “He wasn’t a criminal. The people who killed him are. Conrad, as I said, there’s much much more about it than meets the eye, even our trained eye. I can’t tell you here, and maybe I shouldn’t tell you at all. It will change your entire view of the world, your entire world. I’m not sure you’re really ready for this.”  
Ecklie rose. “Are you kidding me, Grissom? You come in here to tell me you know what happened, and then you back off? What sort of crap is that?”  
“Do I look like I’m kidding? This is far too serious. I want you to sleep it over, think about it, and when you decide you really want to know the truth, even if it will change everything you ever believed to be true, come to me. And I want you to think hard, because once you’re in you can’t go back. This is final.”  
And this time it was Grissom who left.

* * *

"You think he'll say yes?" Nick asked, munching on some chips.  
Grissom, sitting with his feet propped up on the couch table, regarded him over his glasses. "I'm not sure. Part of me hopes so, another part is scared if he does. The truth is rather... fantastic."  
"Uh-huh."  
Nick sank deeper into the couch. It was Saturday, both were off, and Grissom was on call. So far, nothing had come up and Nick hoped it would stay that way. He enjoyed lazy evenings at home with his lover. Tomorrow, they wanted to drive out to Mount Potosi, where Nick planned to spend some time paragliding and Grissom always passed the time reading. In the beginning, Nick had told Gil that he didn't have to come along and sit around, doing nothing. Grissom had explained to him that reading in the calm, quiet environment was highly relaxing for him. So it had become a strange kind of ritual, sometimes followed by a rather hot, erotic encounter later on.  
"I'll have to wait and see."  
Nick sighed. "Yeah. Hope that if he really wants to know, he actually believes it. And understands."  
Grissom shot him a look that spoke of his own mixed feelings.  
They had to wait.  
And see.

* * *

“Grissom, I want to know.”  
Grissom looked at the man lingering in his doorframe, the man he had come to respect on a far different level. Ecklie appeared to have lost a lot of sleep last night, but there was a determined expression on his face.  
He must have loved Thomas a lot, Grissom realized with a pang of regret. Enough to risk everything to find out why he had died.  
“You’re sure?”  
“As I can be.”  
Grissom nodded. Rising he pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Ecklie.  
“Come to this place. The bar, after your shift.”  
Ecklie looked at the card and frowned. "The Shaman?“  
"Don’t ask. Just be there.“  
There was a slight sneer on the hard features. "Aren’t you a bit old to play the mystery game?“  
Grissom gave him a smile. "It’s no mystery. And you know my reputation, Ecklie. I have to live up to it.“  
Ecklie snorted, but he pocketed the business card. "All right, I’ll play along. See you later.“

* * *

Ecklie stepped into the lobby of The Shaman Hotel and looked for the bar. As usual, the casinos were packed whatever hour you entered and since it was now late in the afternoon, more people were flocking in to try their luck. He found the bar, which was aptly named The Walkabout on the lower floor.  
A sign at the door told him it wouldn’t open for three hours, and he frowned. Why would Grissom ask him to come here before business hours? Before he could turn away, the door was opened from the inside, a waiter looking at him questioningly.  
“Are you Mister Conrad Ecklie?”  
“Yes?”  
“You have been expected, sir.”  
So Grissom seemed to have more connections than one would have thought. Ecklie was led to a booth at the far end where he found Grissom and Nick waiting for him, each nursing a drink. Ecklie slid into the booth and found a Whiskey being placed in front of him. A triple, from the looks of it.  
“What, you think I’ll need this?”  
“No. I know you’ll need this.” Grissom answered dryly.  
Ecklie frowned. “Okay, Grissom, no more games. Who killed Thomas, and why couldn’t you tell me at the office?”  
“I couldn’t tell you at the office because officially this case is closed. Dead end. Unofficially it will be handled.”  
“What did Thomas get himself into?”  
“Business espionage in great style,“ Stokes answered quietly. “Stock market manipulation, blackmailing, all the real ugly stuff. He didn’t know in the beginning. The fraternity was the doorway to success, where he was drafted. Like all the others on the list. There is no official proof, therefore no official investigation.”  
“And you know that how?"  
"We have... contacts."  
Ecklie sneered. "What are you? James Bond?"  
Nick grinned. "No, not really. Even if it sounds very much like I Spy."  
"So why would something like business fraud and illegal computer hacking alternate my view of the world, as you so nicely put it, Grissom?” Ecklie finally asked impatiently.  
Gil and Nick exchanged glances.  
“There’s more behind it. Thomas – and all the other members of the fraternity – were ‘recruited’ because they were – special. They all had a special talent that made them useful, and those who were killed refused to be or were no longer of use.”  
“What talent?” Ecklie demanded, frowning.  
Again an exchange of glances.  
“Well,” Grissom murmured, “that’s the tricky part. They were paranormals.”  
Ecklie's mouth opened, but no sound cam out. His eyes widened, and then he started to laugh wryly. “Paranormals? Like psychics, or something like that.”  
“In a way, yes. Every psychic, every medium, every clairvoyant who is real is a paranormal. They’re all witches."  
“Damn, Grissom! I’d never thought you’d make fun of me that way! This is way too serious…!“ Ecklie exploded.  
“Do we look like we’re making fun of you, Ecklie?” Nick cut in sharply. “In fact, I don’t think this is funny, not at all. I'm not laughing!”  
Grissom met the incredulous gaze calmly. "Most humans carry special genes, genes that are as old as the Neanderthal. It's rare that they become dominant, but when they do the person in question develops certain abilities. Not all of them are strong, but some individuals harness an incredible talent. Thomas was such a person.”  
Ecklie had started to shake his head halfway through the explanation and now he was laughing again. "You can't be serious. Is this Candid Camera? Are Brown and Sidle somewhere and filming this? Or Sanders? Tom wasn't a... paranormal!"  
"He was, Conrad," Grissom answered seriously.  
"What would we gain from lying to you?" Nick wanted to know. "We could have told you that it's an unsolved case and be done with it."  
"So why didn't you?"  
"Because I, personally, think that you deserve the truth. You loved Tom," Grissom said compassionately. "I would have wanted to know."  
"Even if someone tried to make you believe such a fantastic tale?"  
Grissom nodded slowly. "I would. Maybe with enough evidence, true, but I would listen. I would try to find the truth. It was easier for me, though, this introduction, but only because I saw it with my own eyes… because I became part of it."  
Ecklie looked at him, hard, unyielding. "Care to explain?"  
"I am a paranormal, Conrad. And so is Nick."

 

Ecklie sat stunned, drawn between renewed laughter and downright fury. He looked at his two colleagues, took in their serious expressions, the way Nick's eyes were filled with a kind of pain that was old but still very much present, and he started to wonder.  
Paranormals... People with powers... out of the ordinary powers. It sounded like a movie or a comic book. Now Grissom and Nick wanted him to believe in it.  
"You’re crazy,“ he finally declared, reaching desperately. This had to be a bad joke! Please!  
“I wish I was, Conrad. Look, it’s a long story, and I totally understand that you can’t believe in it at the moment."  
He gave a snort of laughter. "Right." But something inside Ecklie was curious. "So tell me the story, Grissom."  
Gil looked at Nick and the younger man nodded. Then Grissom began his tale, starting with the seminar in Las Vegas and how he had met up with the local CSI graveyard supervisor, Chris Larabee. Ecklie couldn't believe his ears when he was told that Grissom had been stabbed, had actually been killed, but there wasn't any amusement in either Stokes's or Grissom's eyes. The tale continued and with every explanation, every knew fact, Ecklie felt like he was losing more and more of reality; that he was suddenly freely afloat in what couldn't be true.  
Vampires. Werewolves. Witches and Warlocks. And Grissom who had come back from the dead.  
"I am what is called a Phoenix," Grissom explained in his lecture voice. "When I die, I come back. Not young, but younger. Nick is a very rare paranormal that is called a Mimic. He can adopt another's power."  
Ecklie stared his nightshift counterpart in disbelief. "You watch too much TV," he croaked.  
"I lost seven years of age when I died in Vegas, Conrad," Grissom told him. "Few noticed my change since it wasn't really all that dramatic."  
Ecklie frowned. Yes, Grissom looked… leaner than before. Now that he had mentioned it…  
"It took us a while to accept all of this, too," Nick interrupted his thoughts. "It wasn't easy and it won't be in the future. A lot ha changed for us, but we're trying to live as normally as possible."  
"There is someone else you can ask about all of this, too," Grissom added.  
“And who’d that be?” Ecklie heard himself ask.  
“Greg Sanders.”  
“Greg Sanders? Lab rat Sanders?”  
“The one.”  
Ecklie felt himself blocking the incoming information. Too much, too soon, too... incredible. Too fucking fantastic, part of him snarled. They wanted him to believe in magic!  
"Think about it," Grissom said calmly. "That’s all I ask. Because it is the answer as to why Tom had to die, why we can't officially close the case, and why there'll never be an arrest."  
He rose and Nick followed his example. Neither man appeared like this was the best joke they had ever played on someone, and the scientist, as well as the criminalist in Ecklie urged him on to follow the evidence. Another, larger part was too shell-shocked to think much except that it was ludicrous.  
"I’ll need more proof than just a few stories to even consider believing you,“ he heard himself say.  
"I know. We can’t give it to you, but Greg can.“  
Ecklie’s eyes narrowed. If this turned out to be a joke after all, there would be hell to pay. But somehow, he suspected it would be anything but a joke...

* * *

Greg Sanders was so deeply absorbed in his current DNA analysis – and the Metallica CD in his cd-player – that he didn’t hear someone enter his lab. The visitor didn’t even register as the man cleared his throat to get his attention.  
“Sanders!”  
Greg whirled around at the sharp voice, almost spilling the contents of the Petri dish he was holding when he realized that Conrad Ecklie stood behind him.  
“Jeeez, you scared the shit out of me, man. Look, I’m working on your DNA analysis, it’ll be ready…  
“That’s not what I’m here for, Sanders.”  
Greg opened his mouth to react when the words sank in. “You’re not?”  
“No.”  
“O-kay, then how can I help you?”  
“Tell me about paranormals.”  
Greg blinked twice and almost dropped the entire Petri dish in shock. “Excuse me? About what?”  
"Paranormals. Witches, werewolves, vampires and immortals.“ Ecklie’s eyes narrowed. “But you don’t have the slightest clue what I’m talking about, right? I knew it was a hoax.” The frown on the older man’s face deepened and there was an almost vicious expression in his eyes.  
“Uh, hoax? Who’s playing a joke?”  
“Grissom.”  
Greg had to sit down from the shock this time. Grissom trusted Ecklie with his true nature, told him about the Phoenix? Unbelievable – unless one didn’t know Grissom.  
Okay, so let’s play it cool. Find out what’s going on.  
“What did he tell you?” Greg asked carefully, placing the Petri dish on the desk.  
“Some shit about him being a ‘paranormal’ and Nick, too. Stories about witches and genes. Fairy tales.”  
I’m sure he had his reasons, Greg thought. Good reasons. Reasons I don’t understand, but they better be Grade A quality! Conrad Ecklie knows about the paranormal… damn!  
“He wasn’t lying.”  
Ecklie seemed to take a step back, the frown reappearing again. His eyes bore into the younger man, searching for the joke.  
"He wasn’t,“ he echoed.  
"Nope. He wasn’t,“ Greg repeated.  
"And you’re in on it, too?“  
“No, I’m not in on anything. Ecklie, the paranormal world does exist, and it’s a world beyond your imagination. It has its own rules and laws, and they’re not necessarily compatible with the laws a scientist like you values. If Grissom told you about it, he must trust you a great deal. I can’t tell you anything here, but if you come to this address after your shift,” Greg scribbled the address on a piece of paper, “I’ll answer any question you might have. And maybe even some you don’t know you have.”  
He gave the note to Ecklie, then almost bodily pushed him out of his lab.

 

Ecklie stared at the piece of paper Sanders had handed him, recognizing the address as the place he had met Grissom. It had to be something about the hotel that made both men choose it as a meeting point. Ecklie had never been there, except for a brief lunch at the buffets. He had never worked a crime scene there either. The Shaman was one of the casino hotels built in the last five years and it drew a lot of customers. Just like any other hotel.  
And then he realized something else, something that had almost slipped him: Greg Sanders hadn’t acted the way he had expected him to. Back there in his lab, the moment he had mentioned paranormals he hadn’t talked to the hyper lab rat Sanders, but a serious young man who seemed to be confident in what he was doing.  
It was a disturbing thought.

 

Alone again in his DNA lab a very pissed off Greg Sanders grabbed the phone and dialed a number that he knew by memory. After a few seconds someone answered it.  
“Hell, Grissom, next time you send someone here, especially if it’s Ecklie, warn me first, okay? You tell the guy I’ve got all the answers and he goes and does a cross-examination with me! Almost gave me a coronary.... Huh? No, I’m not too young to get a heart attack, not in this business.... Yep. The Shaman.... No, not necessary; Nandi will be there, maybe I even call Danielle. I’ll keep you informed. See ya.”  
He hung up and slumped briefly against the work table.  
Ecklie knew.  
Hell, Ecklie knew!  
Greg closed his eyes, trying to wrap his mind around the fact, but it seemed impossible.

* * *

"You’re leaving?“  
Conrad Ecklie looked up at the voice and discovered that his visitor was none other than he had expected. Despite the early hours for a nightshift CSI – and the late hour for him – Grissom was here.  
He nodded in answer to the question as he tidied his desk. Today was his last day and he would leave quietly and without much fuss. He had no illusions as to whether there would be a good-bye party or not. He had liked working with his team, even though he had never had the close connection to any of them as Grissom had with each of his CSI.  
"Why?" Grissom asked, sounding genuinely flustered and maybe even shocked.  
"I need to work a few things out," was the simple reply. "I took your advice and talked to Sanders. He… told me some more things, introduced me to paranormals… and I'm still not quite over the shock."  
Grissom walked into the room and closed the door behind himself. "You know you can talk to me and Nick."  
"Yes, I know. Thank you."  
Ecklie checked his desk drawers and decided to leave what little things were still cluttering them. The mug he took with him; it was a little reminder.  
"Leaving isn't always the answer, Conrad."  
"For me it is." He straightened and looked into the confused blue eyes. "My performance here is suffering from my distraction. I can't but think about what you all told me. Gil… I… I gotta do this. I've got to get some distance, get everything back into perspective."  
"How long?" Grissom just wanted to know, voice heavy.  
"I’m on unpaid leave. I'm not sure.“  
"What about your career?"  
A cynical smile graced his lips. "Do you see me going anywhere? It's over, Gil. End of the road for me. I can't go back and pretend everything is all right with my world; it isn't. Not any more." Ecklie shook his head and closed the box. "This is over and before I can start something new, I need to start… myself again. If that makes any sense."  
Grissom smiled sadly. "Actually, it does. I had to do the same thing. As did Nick."  
And you had each other, Ecklie thought with the same sadness reflected in himself.  
"Will you be back?“ Gil asked softly.  
"Maybe. I don't know. I've got at least a year to come to terms with myself and everything else. After that… I'm out.“  
Grissom pushed away from the door and approached him. "You can still talk to either of us, Conrad, whenever you need to. I know you have to deal with a lot right now, but even if you don’t consider me a friend, think of me as someone to turn to.“  
Ecklie was stunned speechless. "Sure,“ he heard himself say. "I... I’ll be in touch.“  
That was as much as he could concede to. He had no idea where he would go, what he would do, he only knew he had to get away from here.  
Grissom smiled. "You know my number. Conrad... good luck.“  
He smiled again, still slightly cynical. "Thanks. And tell Nick... tell him thank you as well… For finding out about Tom…“  
"I will.“

 

There was a hard to interpret expression on Nick’s face as he watched Conrad Ecklie quietly leave his office and disappear down the corridor. Barely anyone seemed to take notice of him. It was Between Shifts; there was hardly anyone here. He and Grissom had come in early because of Ecklie, and he was glad he had done so.  
Grissom walked into his office and shut the door, his face showing his worry.  
"You okay?“ Nick wanted to know.  
"I don’t know. He has to deal with a lot and as always, he wants to deal with it alone.“  
"Would you have gone and shared?“ Nick asked quietly. "If I hadn’t known?“  
Grissom sighed. "Point taken.“  
"You might be like oil and water, but you’re very much alike in that regard.  
A smile graced his lover’s lips and Nick closed the distance, not yet touching.  
"You think he’ll be okay?“  
"We’ll see. Conrad is a very balanced man, mentally stable, so I believe he will be fine—in time.“  
"Like I said... very much alike.“  
Checking that the blinds were still closed and he door shut, Nick pulled his lover close and kissed him briefly.  
Grissom answered the kiss, smiling slightly when they parted. "Wasn’t there an unspoken rule...?“  
"Not at work,“ Nick agreed. "But we’re not yet at work. We haven’t punched in yet.“ He smiled widely.  
Grissom chuckled. "That’s your interpretation.“  
"You didn’t fight it.“  
"I’d be a fool to.“ And then he kissed him, this time longer, lovingly, with a lot of emotions behind it.  
Nick caressed the handsome, boyish face, smiling warmly.  
"Time to go to work,“ he murmured.  
Grissom reluctantly let go, but he nodded. "Back to business.“


	2. Full Circle

Three months.  
They had been fun. Well, to a degree. Conrad Ecklie had never been on any kind of extended vacation before, so driving up Highway One from San Diego to San Francisco had been a huge difference in his past life style. But it had shown him one thing: he could be someone else, he could interact with people other than criminalists or bow to the tide of politics; he could be just Conrad.  
It was a revelation.  
San Francisco had been his final destination so far. He liked the city and had rented himself a hotel room for two weeks, getting a good rate. After two weeks he would see what he wanted to do. Maybe go all the way up to Seattle and then cross the border to Vancouver. Maybe go even further North.  
It was all open to him now.  
An amazing feeling.  
Ecklie took his ordered drink from the bartender and turned, when a solid body ran into him, spilling his drink all over his shirt. He suppressed a curse and groped for a handkerchief.  
“Sheesh, I’m sorry. Let me give you a hand.”  
Looking up Ecklie gazed into a pair of sea deep gray eyes, regarding him with a mild concern. Whatever he had wanted to utter, it froze in his throat – until he felt the hand of the other man taking the handkerchief and taking care of the mess he had caused. He was dapping at the dark stains on the blue shirt, standing impossibly close. Closer than his personal space was comfortable with.  
What the …? This might be San Francisco, but this wasn’t a scene bar, so … not to mention it caused something to stir.  
“Thanks, but I can take care of that myself,” he finally managed, grabbing the handkerchief back.  
The incredible eyes were back, in addition to a smile. Damn.  
“Of course. How thoughtless of me. I’m Franklin.”  
“Conrad,” Ecklie answered automatically, putting the 'kerchief away.  
Before Ecklie could think twice he found himself taking the outstretched hand. Direct skin contact. Not a good idea, a part of his mind and body screamed at him when his skin started to tingle with a long forgotten sensation. It didn’t help that Franklin was holding it a little too long than seemed appropriate in such a situation, or that these eyes were watching him, appearing to pierce through all the walls he had erected in all the years, shove away every single barrier and look directly into his soul that he had buried twenty years ago. And then the contact was gone and Ecklie felt a sudden dullness, like an anesthesia. It would start to hurt later.  
“Look, Conrad, let me buy you another drink. It’s the least I can do.”  
And he nodded.

* * *

Ecklie had returned to his hotel and had laid on his bed ever since, sleep evading him. Closing his eyes he saw a pair of gray eyes, felt a warm hand gently touching him, stirring something deep inside him, awakening something he not only thought he had send to sleep but buried forever.  
He remembered only too vividly another pair of laughing gray eyes, similar yet different, an excited voice when Thomas had told him about his outstanding job offer, how he had listened over and over again until he had laughed and caught the flailing arms in a tight embrace, shutting his young love up the most effective way. Thomas had melted into him after protesting oh so slightly and the following night had been… well, outstanding.  
Thomas couldn’t resist to give him a goodbye kiss in the morning when Conrad had left his room, and he had thought he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. After that things had gone down the drain. He remembered how the light in those beloved gray eyes had died, how he could read from his lover’s stiff body language every time something new had happened. First Thomas had laughed it off as ‘just an episode, man, tomorrow they find someone else to pick on.’  
They hadn’t, and it had become worse instead of better.  
Then he had called to pick up Thomas from the hospital for the first time. Gay-bashing, it was called. ‘No big deal, man, just some bruises. They just shoved me around a little’. Conrad had discussed, argued, even begged his lover to tell the Dean, a teacher, the police, SOMEone. He hadn’t known Thomas already had. And then the young man withdrew from him, grew silent, avoided every contact.  
The rare occasions Conrad got him to talk Tom had been rather cryptic. Ecklie clenched his fists at a special memory. He had been allowed to cuddle with Thomas, they had lain on his bed together, enjoying a moment of comfort, when Thomas had turned into his arms.  
‘Conrad?’  
‘Yes?’  
‘Promise me something?’  
“Whatever you want.’  
‘If something… happens… leave. Okay?’  
‘What do you mean? What should happen?’  
‘Just promise me, okay? Don’t stay here. Please?’  
‘Tom…’  
‘Please. *Promise* me!’  
Conrad had looked into his lover’s eyes, not quite understanding, but getting that this was important to him.  
‘I promise.’  
A rare broad smile had been his reward, as Thomas had bent over to kiss him deeply, almost desperately, hand running over his body in a needy way, and Conrad had soon given in to that need.  
The next time he had seen his lover had been the moment his body had crashed into the pavement only three meters away.  
And Ecklie had left for another U, just like he had promised, not even attending the funeral ceremony.  
The pain washed over him like a tidal wave, realization and guilt, grieve and loss all mingled together into a large black vault. Thomas had known. Known that somebody had been after him, for goodness sake, and he hadn’t told him a single word, had protected him even then. And he hadn’t bothered to question, to look behind the obvious, had assumed like everybody else, and had went on. Well, in a way. He had become the man he was now, cynical and hard, not very likeable – hell, he didn’t *want* to be liked. Being liked just didn’t get you anywhere, being liked just caused… caused…  
And twenty years of grieve and remorse crashed his barriers.  
It left him exhausted to the core – and with a longing that mixed with the image of a pair of dancing storm-cloud eyes.

*

Still he came back. Not the next night, but the one after that. Ecklie sat at the bar, surveying the patrons, hoping to get a glimpse of the man who had flirted with him two nights ago.  
"Looking for someone?“  
The sensual voice touched a place inside him that had Ecklie thrum with anticipation. He turned to the blond, took in the dancing eyes, the casual outfit that hid nothing of the lithe figure underneath, and he tried to control his reaction to this man; this stranger.  
"Hello again, Conrad,“ Franklin greeted him, leaning against the bar top, closer than a casual encounter should be.  
"Franklin.“  
"Can I invite you to a drink?“  
"Sure.“  
It had been so easy and Ecklie wondered why. He had never dated for real, had never flirted, never again after becoming who he had been up until a few weeks ago. His job had eradicated his private life. He had been too cautious – he had missed out on life…

*

It turned out to be a pleasant evening. Franklin seemed to be known in that bar, at least by some of the clientele, because he was greeted by at least two women and three men. He just waved at them, his attention coming back to Ecklie immediately. It was an amazing feeling to see this handsome man turn down the obviously flirtatious behavior of two of the greeters to talk to him.  
"So you’re on a sabbatical?“ Franklin inquired, munching on some snacks on the table.  
"Kind of. I needed some time to get the world back into perspective again. Work… started to smother me.“  
"So you just left everything behind, family and friends, and cruised the coast?“  
Ecklie smiled. "Yes. And there’s no family and not many friends to begin with.“  
"No wife, no children? I find that hard to believe.“  
"Believe it. It’s the truth.“ Ecklie shrugged. "So, what about you? Family?“  
"Yes and no. I… lost my children a few years ago.“ It was clear to Ecklie that he didn’t really want to talk about it, but he neither encouraged nor stopped him. "My daughter… was mentally unstable. She killed her brothers. Apparently to get back at me for being the father I had been.“  
A humorless smile graced Franklin’s lips. Ecklie looked at the other man, shocked at what had been revealed. He had never heard anyone so casually relate something so painful to a virtual stranger. But his mind was also working in leaps. Franklin’s daughter had killed her brothers and nearly her father? The man looked no older than maybe mid-thirties! That meant a teenage daughter at best… It also meant a wife of ex-wife.  
"She must have been young…“  
Franklin smiled. "I’m older than I look, Conrad. Alicia wasn’t a teenager.“  
Ecklie was stunned. If the other man was his age… time had been good to him.  
"It must have been hard.“  
"Yes, it was. I lost my children, except the one I had never known, and he hated me.“  
"Your wife?“  
"No wife,“ was the calm answer.  
"Oh. Sorry.“  
Franklin’s smile was back. "It’s the past, Conrad.“  
"What about your surviving son?“  
"We haven’t been on speaking terms for a long time. It only just recently got better.“  
"How come?“  
Franklin shrugged. "I never knew I had him until the day we met accidentally. When he asked about us, I had to tell him. He… was an accident.“  
Ecklie nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Not the best way to start a father-son relationship.“  
Franklin laughed wryly. "No, not really. He told me back then never to show my face in Salt Lake ever again. It’s where he lives.“  
"I see. Must’ve been hard.“  
"Knowing I have another son, who’s alive? Or knowing he’d rather want me dead than as a friend?“ Franklin’s gray eyes were filled with pain. "Both, Conrad. Both.“  
"You never tried to talk to him again?“  
"Not really, no. I wasn’t that suicidal.“  
Strangely enough, it sounded like more than a joke. It sounded like Franklin was actually afraid he would end up dead.  
"But we found a common base of understanding in the last years. I think it had a lot to do with his friends. They kinda knocked his head right in that regard. I regret what happened in the past. If I had known…“ Franklin sighed. "Water under the bridge. It’s the past and nothing can change that.“  
Sensing the painful topic and aware that the words reminded him a lot of his own past, Ecklie changed the topic.  
"So, what do you do for a living when you're not entertaining strangers in a bar?"  
Franklin laughed. "You're not a stranger. I know your name."  
Ecklie snorted with humor.  
"As to what I do, I'm running an advertising company."  
"Sounds like fun."  
"It is, when the deadlines don't prematurely age you."  
Franklin shot him a youthful smile that Conrad envied him.

*

They left the bar together, Ecklie not quite sure what was to happen next, only that they had looked at one another at a certain point in their conversation and both had known it was time. For what his mind didn’t want to wrap itself around.  
Ecklie had no idea why, but he went with the other man. He had come here to forget; forget who he was, what had happened, everything. So it was time to shed the old skin and be someone else.  
Someone who would enjoy what was freely given; someone who didn’t give a damn about who saw him with whom.  
Outside the cool night air hit him hard – he seemed to have been drinking more than he had thought – and he felt a strong arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him. Glancing at his companion he found those piercing gray eyes looking into his soul again, whirling like a summer storm. He felt the grip of the arm tighten, pulling him closer to the hard body at his side. He still tried to deny the obvious – hell, he was a balding, middle-aged guy, not even barely describable as good-looking, and this man, tall, strong and handsome wanted him?  
He felt a pair of lips brush over his neck, causing a shudder, and a hoarse voice whispering into his ear  
“Where to?”  
“Hotel?”  
“’kay.”  
And then those lips were back.

* * *

He had had no illusions as to what this was: a one-night stand. Ecklie knew he was nothing but a brief interlude. His last relationship had been with Tom and ever since, encounters had been far and few. After joining the criminalistics bureau over fifteen years ago, his career had been the primary objective in his life; relationships were secondary. And after rising in the ranks, it had been too dangerous, too.  
Letting go for this one night had set something inside him free and he was actually thankful for Franklin to have released it, but he knew he’d never see this man again. No surprise there either that the blond was gone when he woke the next morning, though the scribbled note was.  
'Thank you for a wonderful time.'  
Ecklie smiled wryly. Sure. Right.  
And he threw the piece of paper away.

 

It came as a kind of shock when he ran into Franklin two days later. He had been cruising around San Francisco, for the first time in his life enjoying the role of a tourist, of someone without obligations, time tables or schedules. The hotel restaurant had offered a good deal on dinner and later he had retreated to the hotel bar.  
It was where he met his one-night stand again.  
Ecklie was shocked, to say the least, when the younger man smiled at him and took the seat opposite.  
"You look surprised,“ Franklin commented, ordering a cocktail from the waitress.  
"Pleasantly,“ Ecklie managed. "What are you doing here?“  
"I thought I’d drop by, see if you wanted to go out, do something, anything.“  
"I… hadn’t planned to.“  
"Okay. So we enjoy the music and the drinks.“  
Franklin gave the waitress a brilliant smile as he paid for the cocktail, which was returned. Flirting, Ecklie realized. Heavily.  
Then that smile was directed him, but with an ounce more flirtation to it.  
"Sorry I had to leave so quickly last time. I had an appointment to keep in the morning.“  
He was sorry for leaving? Ecklie mentally shook his head. Why? There had been no obligations.  
"And I’d like for us to have a chance to… repeat the night. If you want to,“ Franklin added.  
Hell, yes! part of Ecklie cried in joy. Another immediately searched for the deeper reason. Why would a handsome guy like Franklin want to even think about having him again?  
What the hell, he decided. Stop thinking, just act!  
And he did as he gave the younger man a slight smile.  
"I’d love to,“ he answered, convinced it wasn’t his voice.  
"Good.“  
Fingers brushed over his hand and the contact made him tingle. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, Ecklie mused. And he would enjoy it as long as it lasted.

* * *

Franklin wasn’t exclusive. Not that Ecklie had expected anything else. His lover was bi and he enjoyed it to the fullest. The former CSI accepted it; it was common in the scene to pick your partners as you wanted, and Franklin moved through it all like a predator – but he ended up close to Ecklie most of the times.  
After two weeks of meeting most evenings, Ecklie had decided that he liked San Francisco enough to move out of the hotel and into an apartment building. He found a nice place that was airy, had a spectacular view, and the apartments looked more like small houses than anything else.  
"Nice place,“ Franklin murmured into his ear.  
Ecklie smiled. "Yes, I liked it, too.“  
His lover rested his chin on Ecklie’s shoulder and pulled him even closer.  
"What’s the bedroom like?“ he whispered.  
Ecklie smiled and turned in the embrace. "How about we find out?“

* * *

Ecklie studied the man at his side, the lithe body lying naked on the bed. Completely unconcerned with his nudity and deeply asleep. It had been the first time in a very long time that Conrad Ecklie had allowed himself to feel more than the satisfaction it brought to have sex. He hadn’t known Franklin for long, but something had developed between them.  
It was more than casual.  
A lot more. At least for him.  
Maybe it was because the other man reminded him of Thomas. The eyes, the smile, the sheer energy. It was what had attracted him to Tom. They had been best friends and lovers, had shared everything.  
He closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows, not giving in to the tempting illusion that this wonderful man saw more than just a chance encounter in him.  
What did he have to offer? He was at least ten years older, balding, and currently out of a job. He knew he could get back into the criminalistic work easily, but somehow, he didn’t want to. He had a lot of personal problems to work through and while having sex helped, it also confronted him with ghosts of his past.  
Ecklie sighed. But still, he needed distance from his past, and if distance included a brief time of enjoyable sex with a handsome guy, so be it. He might move on in a day or two; he might just wait until Franklin tired of him.  
Movement to his left alerted him to his lover waking, and he suddenly found himself pulled down and met the tender kiss of the other man.  
"Hello,“ Franklin purred, gray eyes warm and full of an emotion Ecklie refused to acknowledge.  
"Hey.“  
Those lips shot fire through him and despite his earlier thoughts, he felt that special feeling once more. It was rising like a tidal wave and while he tried not to drown in it, it was impossible to escape. Ecklie let himself be pulled in, his hands roaming over the athletic form of his lover, and he lost himself in the warmth that rose with it.

* * *

Weeks passed and Ecklie had started a part-time job. Nothing fancy. It brought in some money and that was always a good thing. He had a good-sized savings account and his home in Vegas brought in rent, but the job was also to keep him occupied. He was no longer a tourist and the days grew too long when there was nothing to do.  
But he still had time to think about his relationship with Franklin, which had developed. The predator had become exclusive. For a while now, Ecklie had seen his lover turn down very obvious offers, staying with him, the casual touches that showed others that they were an item, and an expression in the gray eyes that sent shivers down his spine.  
Something was happening here, and Ecklie was panicking. His mind was going through flight plans, how quickly he could leave his place, his job, this city – while another was warm and content with the status quo. He hadn't been content for a very long time and Franklin had made it possible for him to relax. Las Vegas and the CSI were forgotten, but the fear of rejection remained. The longer he let this go on, the deeper the pain would be when Franklin finally tired of him and chose another partner.  
And out of this panic, he made a decision.  
"I think we should stop this now."  
Franklin looked at him, slightly flabbergasted. "Stop it?" he echoed.  
Ecklie inhaled deeply, gathering his shields around him. "This won't work, Franklin. I know it's nice; it feels good. But it can't go on."  
"Why do you think that, Conrad?“ Franklin asked, gray eyes serious as he looked at him.  
"Because I’m a realist. This was fun, but it’s not going to last. Just look at what’s for offer.“ Ecklie made a sweeping gesture.  
"I’m not interested. I found what I want.“  
Ecklie fought the lump in his throat, the pain rising inside him.  
Please don't do this to me! he begged silently.  
"After just a few months?“ he asked, mouth feeling numb.  
"Yes,“ was the simple answer.  
"I’m not such an optimist.“  
Franklin gave him a warm smile. "Then maybe you need more time to convince yourself.“  
Ecklie struggled with the implications. "Franklin..."  
The blond man closed the distance, warm gray eyes regarding him openly. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon," he said seriously. "Not without you anyway." A smile graced the handsome features.  
"You can't be serious."  
"I am."  
"Franklin..." Ecklie tried again.  
Franklin cupped one cheek and Ecklie fought the wonderful wave of warmth rising inside him. "I want to be with you, Conrad."  
As simple as that. The former criminalist drew a shuddering breath. Nothing could be as simple, but he wanted it to be. He wanted to be with Franklin.  
"Just give us a chance. It's all I ask for," Franklin went on.  
All he asked for? He was asking him for this? Ecklie nearly laughed out loud. He would have thought he'd be begging this man not to leave, but it was the other way around. Now he had given him the chance to end this, let Ecklie end it, but Franklin wasn't about to let go. He wanted… his mind stopped. He couldn't want this for real, could he?  
But what if…?  
"Conrad, please?" the blond whispered.  
Taking the slender form into his arms, he enjoyed the way Franklin leaned into him, how his lips found their counterparts, how his mouth welcomed him. It was answer enough for both of them. Ecklie knew he was setting himself up for a soul-deep pain when Franklin finally came to his senses, but somewhere deep inside part of him was coming to life again.  
And it felt good.

* * *

They had made a date for tonight and Ecklie had been early, so he had ordered himself a beer and settled down at one of the empty tables. The bar was one he and Franklin had frequented lately and he liked it. It was small but not stuffy and not a scene bar. He had never hung out at one in his past and he wasn't planning on going to one in the future.  
"So you're ol' Frank's little plaything. Not much to look at."  
The voice belonged to a large, muscular man in his early thirties, who now towered over Ecklie, a disdainful look on his square face. Ecklie looked up, surprised by the venomous words, but before he had a reply, the man grabbed him by his shirt and tore him off his seat.  
"Wonder what he sees in you," the other went on. "Good fuck? Maybe I should try it out."  
The attack came so fast, it took Ecklie's breath away. He was thrown against the wall, which knocked the wind out of him, and a pair of strong hands grabbed him by his shirt again. Ecklie was tossed from the wall onto the floor, where he lay, gasping. He felt blood run down his chin from where he had accidentally bit his lip.  
"What do you have I don't, huh? Why did he choose you?"  
Ecklie looked up as his attacker approached, but before he could touch him, something -- no, someone -- slipped between them.  
"Brad!"  
The hiss was barely even human, but Ecklie recognized the voice. And then his eyes widened as the much slighter Franklin grabbed the other man and simply tossed him into the wall -- hard enough to leave a dent.  
"Hands off!"  
Ecklie's mouth fell open when he discovered the possessive expression on his lover's face -- and the eerie light glowing in the normally so warm eyes. Now they flared with a silver fire, inhuman, predatory... not Franklin.  
"You don't want to share, vamp?" Brad laughed as he pushed himself off the wall.  
Franklin growled and it was a menacing noise. "You're about to cross the last line."  
"You think I'm afraid of you?"  
"No. You're actually too stupid to feel fear."  
Brad roared in indignation and attacked, but Franklin was too fast, and the next moment Brad was a groaning heap on the floor, holding his obviously broken, bleeding nose.  
"Want to try again?" Franklin asked pleasantly.  
"You're dead, man!"  
"Very observant, Brad. But I prefer 'undead'. So much more fun than a corpse."  
The muscle man snarled. "Think you're so big?"  
Franklin shot him a calculating look and smiled slowly. Brad growled, looking grotesque with his broken nose and bloodied face. He was just about to lunge at his opponent again when one of the onlookers finally intervened. It was a woman, brunette, slender and rather petite in appearance, but she easily held the other man.  
"That's enough, Bradley! Leave! Now!"  
Bright blue eye stared the much larger man down and he suddenly lowered his eyes.  
"Now!" she repeated. "This was the last straw. You're out!"  
"But..."  
His protest died a quick death and he staggered away.  
Franklin reached for Ecklie and pulled him to his feet, a possessive-protective arm around his waist. "You okay?" he whispered.  
He could only nod, too stunned by the revelations.  
Franklin was... he was...  
He swallowed.  
"Franklin," the brunette woman addressed his lover.  
"Thanks, Reggie."  
She smiled slightly. "Brad is a disturbed young man. I knew he'd break one day."  
Franklin snorted. "He's an asshole who thinks I'll turn him. That's what he is."  
"As I said... he's disturbed. You better get out of here now."  
He nodded and tugged Ecklie along, who went willingly, mind still reeling. He was in shock; enough that he didn't resist Franklin's guiding hands until they were out of the bar.  
"I'm sorry, Conrad," Franklin brought him out of his shock, hands rubbing over him as he tried to ascertain himself that no serious harm had been done. One hand suddenly held a handkerchief and wiped away the blood.  
"Who was that?" was Ecklie's first question, taking the 'kerchief.  
"Bradley. Asshole. He's been after me for a while."  
"Why?"  
Franklin shrugged, unwilling to answer.  
Ecklie briefly closed his eyes, then inhaled deeply.  
"You're not human, right?"  
Franklin looked thunderstruck. "Conrad…"  
"I saw what happened in there. I saw your eyes." Ecklie held the suddenly apprehensive gaze.  
"A trick of the light."  
Ecklie frowned angrily. "Don't shit with me, Franklin! I know what I saw. It's my job to be observant and a few months out of it don't make me a dimwit!"  
Franklin didn't say anything, but he looked torn, and Ecklie remembered another time he had seen eyes glow. Just as a demonstration in a closed bar in the Shaman Hotel back in Vegas.  
"You're a paranormal," he murmured.  
The expression on Franklin's face was priceless. His mouth dropped open in surprise, his eyes widened, and he was clearly searching for words.  
"Yes, I know about them," Ecklie went on, anger rising. "I know some back in Las Vegas, among them someone who had the same eye problem. I was given a demonstration once to convince me that there is such a thing as the paranormal!"  
"I'm a vampire," Franklin finally confessed, looking unwell with the revelation.  
Ecklie ran a hand through his thinning hair, shaking his head. "Damnit! And you think you can just dump that on me? Like it’s nothing? After sleeping together for months? After lying to me!“  
"I know it’s something big, Conrad. I was a fool to deceive you all the time… but I didn’t want to scare you off.“  
"Scare me off?“ Ecklie snarled. "That's the weakest excuse I've ever heard! You told me everything else! Fuck, I nearly spilled my soul to you!"  
Franklin watched him calmly. "There’s no excuse for how I acted. I just didn’t want to lose you.“  
"Why? Can’t find another fuck buddy? Well, look around you, Franklin! They’re dying to get into your pants! Like Brad!“  
Ecklie pushed past the other man.  
"But you’re the only one I want to let in,“ Franklin answered softly. "I’m not interested in them. Him. Anyone. Not since I started to feel there's more to us…“  
"For how long? Till you tire of the old guy and look for new blood? I’ll tell you something, Franklin: I’m not in the mood. I don't like games! I don't like being a toy for someone who has all eternity and needs something to pass the time for a few months! It was nice, but that’s about it.“  
And with that, he stalked off, not looking back.

 

Franklin stood like rooted to the spot. Inside of him, something screamed in denial. He had known that Conrad might be disturbed by his nature, but he hadn't counted on that much anger. It was an emotion stemming from something other than just the revelation of who and what he was; it ran deeper.  
Just like Franklin's emotions ran deeper.  
The argument hadn't been about the fact that he was a vampire, it had been about something else. Conrad was afraid, but of the creature he was but of what he suddenly meant in his life.  
"Shit," he whispered.

* * *

The following days were hard. He barely saw much of the outside world, holing up inside his apartment and wondering where to go from here. He could leave San Francisco, try to forget what had happened, but that would be close to impossible. He had come here to deal with what Grissom and Nick had told him, handle the truth about what was really out there. Now he had been thrown right back in, and he couldn’t swim.  
Ecklie looked out the closed glass doors, across the bay, and he wondered what to do. He had come to terms with his guilt concerning Tom’s death, but could he deal with Franklin and what the other man meant for him?  
No. He couldn’t.  
He had allowed himself to feel, he had opened up, and suddenly all that trust had been betrayed. Franklin was a paranormal. Not just any kind, no. He was a vampire. He had died, he had come back as a blood-sucking undead, and he avoided the sun. Only now, looking back at his time with the other man, did he realize that they had never met throughout the day. In the evenings or at night – or inside. Having lunch, sharing a coffee, but always inside.  
Ecklie closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cream colored couch.  
What now?  
He couldn’t turn off his feelings for the other man, but he also couldn’t ignore his 'condition’. He was close to immortal, or at least he aged slowly, as Danielle had explained to him. So what was Conrad Ecklie to him? A way to pass a decade, if at all that much time? A toy to amuse himself with.  
Past insecurities rose and he shoved them away.  
Maybe he had put too much of Tom into Franklin, had built up a dream that had now burst. Maybe he had hoped to find what he had been missing – only to have it shatter into a million pieces.  
The door bell roused him out of his thoughts and for a moment, Ecklie thought about just ignoring the world outside, but then he got off the couch and walked to the front door. When he opened it, shock and surprise warred for dominance.  
Blond hair highlighted by the midday sun, Franklin stood on his door step, without an ounce of shade anywhere, and his gray eyes held an open, almost pleading emotion.  
"Hey,“ the vampire greeted him, sounding unsure. "Uh, can I come in?“  
Sunlight. Two p.m. Vampire. In the friggin' sun!  
Ecklie grabbed the other man and pulled him inside.  
"What the fuck are you doing outside?“ he demanded.  
"I needed to talk to you, Conrad. I doubt you’d have picked up my calls and you weren’t going out any more,“ Franklin explained, voice still unsure.  
And he looked pale, Ecklie noticed. Paler than normal. Slightly gray around the edges.  
"How did you get here?“  
"I drove.“  
"In the sun?!“  
Franklin shrugged. "The bus takes too long.“  
"Are you nuts?“  
"No, just… Conrad, I wanted to apologize for dropping the bomb on you, so to speak. I never meant to tell you like this.“  
Ecklie fought for composure. His lover had come here, in bright daylight, risking his life, to apologize?  
Then something else registered.  
"You wanted to tell me anyway?“  
"Yes. You mean a lot to me, Conrad. I wanted you to know how much by trusting you with this. It just… it came across wrong. I never meant to scare you off. And… I’m not sure how much you know about my kind, but all the movie clichés are wrong.“  
"I told you, I met someone in Vegas. She’s a vampire. She told me a few things,“ Ecklie replied, voice softening. "It just… took me by surprise.“  
"I guess.“  
They looked at each other, Ecklie lost for words. Finally he reached out and touched the too-pale skin. Franklin leaned into the touch, smiling hesitantly.  
"You look wasted,“ Ecklie said calmly.  
"Sun does that to you.“  
"I guess the cliché about vampires needing blood to restore themselves is true.“  
"Yes.“  
"Got any with you?“  
Franklin chuckled weakly. "I never go without it.“  
"In the car?“  
A nod.  
Ecklie pushed him toward the couch and made the other man sit down. "Keys?“  
"Conrad, you don’t have to…“  
"Keys,“ Ecklie demanded.  
Franklin sighed and handed over the car keys. Ecklie took them and went out to the car. He found a electric cooling bag on the passenger seat, unplugged it and carried the whole thing inside.  
Franklin rose unsteadily and came over as Ecklie opened it. "You don’t have to do that, Conrad. Let me.“  
Ecklie caught the hand reaching out for the bag and pulled his lover closer.  
"If you want this to work, you gotta trust me, Franklin,“ he said softly. "With everything.“  
"I just don’t want you to think it’s… freakish. I mean, it’s blood.“  
"I’ve seen enough in my time as a criminalist.“ Ecklie flipped open the bag and looked at the contents.  
Three unmarked cans that looked like thermoses.  
"Different flavors?“ he joked.  
It drew a smile. "No.“  
Franklin took one and unscrewed the top. He hesitated briefly, meeting his lover’s eyes, then started to drink.  
Ecklie watched the other man swallow the contents, the blood, and strangely enough, he wasn’t as freaked as he would have believed. It was strange to know that this man was living off blood, was drinking it before his eyes, but he wasn’t running scared.  
Franklin put down the empty can and licked his lips, the last specks of red disappearing.  
"Second helping?“ Ecklie offered.  
"No. I’m fine. I just want to get some rest.“  
Ecklie nodded and took his lover’s hand, pulling the unresisting man over to the couch. He made him sit again, then pulled down the blinds until the room was cast in twilight.  
"Conrad?“ Franklin asked, a bit perplexed.  
The former CSI sat down next to him, then pulled him closer as he laid down on the broad, comfortable couch. Franklin didn’t protest, just went with the flow. Soon he was spooned up next to Ecklie.  
It felt wonderful; natural. And Ecklie felt his body relax into the familiar weight and form of his lover.  
"That’s nice,“ the vampire murmured.  
Ecklie kissed the top of his head. "Yes, it is.“  
It was perfect.  
"I... was afraid you wouldn't want this any more."  
"Why? Because you're a vampire?"  
Franklin nodded.  
"I still want it," Ecklie said simply. "Still want you," he added, voice dropping.  
It was the truth. What he felt ran deep, which was why it had hurt so much. He wanted this man, no matter who or what he was.  
The vampire smiled and snuggled closer. He didn't fall asleep. He just lay next to him, wrapped around Ecklie, and the two men enjoyed the silent pleasure of each other's close presence. Now and then Franklin would stroke his palm over Ecklie's flank.  
"Why me, Franklin?" he asked after a while.  
"Do you need a reason?"  
"I'm a scientist. It puzzles me. All the equations are wrong."  
"What equations?"  
"You, me, us. It doesn't fit."  
"I think it does."  
"Among everyone, in all your long life, why me? You're a free spirit, Franklin. I saw that. You like to sample what's offered."  
Franklin raised his head and gray eyes looked seriously into dark ones. "You want to know about me?"  
"If you're willing to share…?"  
The vampire let his head sink back against his lover. "It's been a while since anyone really asked."  
He was silent for a moment and Ecklie waited patiently.  
"I'm about one hundred and eighty years old," Franklin finally began. "I wasn't sick or anything; dying, you know. I just… said yes when my future sire asked me if I wanted to share this life with him. Don't get me wrong; we weren't involved. Never were, never have been. Anyway… it fascinated me. I wanted to live this long, see every corner of the world. All the drawbacks were… minor details."  
Ecklie nodded, keeping his silence, despite the first questions rising in his mind.  
"I'm British by birth. My sire was a Frenchman. We stayed in Europe for a while. Just a few years until my body had adjusted enough for me to travel brief distances in daylight. Very brief distances. We came to America."  
The hand still caressing his side stopped briefly and Ecklie felt the man in his arms tense.  
"It's where I made my fatal mistake. I was young, cocky, so sure of myself that I could control the vampire that I left my sire. It was an error in judgment, but I was too young to realize it. I killed a man, and accidentally sired my son of whom I didn't know until recently."  
"You never killed before?" Ecklie asked softly.  
"No. We don't kill. We take, but we give pleasure to the donor." A wry smile danced across the blond's lips. "That much about the legend is true; vampire feeding is… erotic."  
Ecklie chuckled, then grew serious again. "What happened afterwards?"  
"My sire was… livid, to say the least. I had gone off on my own, I had killed a man, I had endangered us… I was in a lot of trouble. For the next fifty years I was under constant observation, by either my sire or someone else."  
"Pretty harsh."  
"Very mild, considering I could have been killed for it," Franklin countered. "Well, as you can see, I wasn't killed. I served my time, so to speak, then moved around freely, taking what I wanted without trespassing on any rules. I never amassed fortunes like many of us do; I was content with what I had. I liked the stock markets and made my money there, buying and selling companies, papers, options, whatever.  
I sired my own children, I rose in my position within the community, and I stayed mostly in San Francisco. I've been with this community for a long time.  
Then my sons were killed by my daughter and I discovered I had accidentally turned the man I had killed into one of us, too. It more or less broke my neck. The community found out, of course. Ezra is a high ranking individual and it was an uproar here in Frisco to find out he was sired and left alone, to fend for himself, and that I was the one responsible."  
"What happened?"  
"I was stripped of rank. I lost my position here. I'm just one of many now, no rank or privileges, or the possibility to rise higher."  
Franklin delivered his speech so matter-of-factly that Ecklie wondered if he felt anything at all. He tightened his old and suddenly felt a little tremor run through the man. Here went all his ideas about Franklin's past and his life as a vampire. Nothing like the movies or TV shows. Yes, he went through life taking what he wanted, but he had paid a high price.  
"I'm lucky neither Ezra nor anyone from here killed me for it. Siring a child without consent of a community is bad enough, accidentally siring a child and leaving him to fend for himself is punishable by death. Ezra could have turned out a crazed mass murderer. He had no one to guide him, to curb his instincts, to teach him about his new self." Franklin laughed slightly. "I'm very proud of him. He turned out to be more than I could ever have expected, more than I could ever have been myself. He found a partner and friends, he has a community who he leads, and he wields a lot of power. You know, he's connected to Vegas as well."  
"Ah."  
Ecklie mentally shrugged. Vampire power structures and politics were something he couldn't wrap his mind around so far.  
"Now to answer your original question…. Yes, I like to take what I see and want, Conrad. There are no longer any consequences as long as I'm careful when it comes to human partners. I like my life as it is now, but I was missing something. I found physical beauty in my partners, but I never found what touched me when I met you."  
"Cynism, tiredness, anger and pain?"  
Franklin looked up again, the gray eyes so very serious again. "No. Something else. I know you think I'll leave you for a pretty face, but that's just… beauty is transitory."  
"Not if you're a vampire," Ecklie countered.  
"Even then. I told you I'm old. I know. What you see is not always what you get. I like to look and touch and take, but I never got much in return. And it got me into a lot of trouble in the past. When we first met, I sensed your attraction to me and when we shook hands, it was like…" Franklin stopped, looking a bit embarrassed.  
Ecklie gave him a curious look. "What?"  
Franklin fumbled for words. "Vampires… we don't really have lifemates. I mean, we live so long, it just doesn't… fit. But sometimes, between two partners, there's this feeling. I never felt it before, obviously; I just know someone who found his lifepartner that way."  
"Franklin?"  
Ecklie was confused.  
"When I touched you, it tingled. It was this electric feeling, like… touching a low current, live wire."  
Ecklie frowned more. He remembered the feeling, too. It had been weird, almost like a sexual spike, but he had blamed it on his neglected emotional side.  
"You want to tell me that you can touch someone and what? Bind them?"  
Franklin pushed up, wide-eyed, pale face looking down on him. "No! No one can force the connection. It's mutual. I didn't force anything on you. It's not some kind of spell… Something with you spiked my interest and every passing day, that interest was rekindled anew." Franklin sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what attracts me to you, Conrad, I only know that I want you by my side. I want to be at your side."  
Ecklie gazed at the handsome blond, touched by the words, and the truth behind them, but the revelation that there might something else involved still niggled.  
"I'm human."  
"I know."  
"You're close to immortal."  
Franklin's gray eyes held a hard to interpret expression. "Yes."  
"I'll die."  
"I know that, too. It doesn't matter, Conrad."  
"It does to me. In ten or twenty years, there won't be a relationship. There will be me, looking for a place to spend my golden years. And you… looking young enough to be my son. Unless you plan on changing something about that particular equation."  
The vampire swallowed and, if possible, grew even paler. "Conrad…"  
"Would you?"  
"I'm not sure I could," was the soft whisper.  
Ecklie regarded him steadily.  
"I told you… we need permission, me even more so than anyone. And I can't change my lover, Conrad. A sire and a child can't be lovers."  
"Would you even want it?"  
"God, yes, I want to be with you!" Pain spoke from the other man. "But don't force me to choose. I couldn’t."  
He leaned forward and gently captured the vampire's lips, kissing him tenderly. "I won't force your hand. I'm not sure I could live with that choice either."  
"I love you," Franklin whispered.  
He swallowed. "Franklin…"  
"I know it's an intense emotion," the blond stopped him, "and I understand that you can't give it freely. You carry a lot of pain. Just… let me stay?"  
Ecklie pulled him up into a lingering kiss. "I'd love to have you stay, Franklin," he whispered, skirting around the declaration of love.  
His feelings were one thing, his mind another.  
"Conrad?"  
"Hm?"  
"Tell me about the pain?" Franklin inquired softly.  
Ecklie felt himself tense for a moment, then he exhaled slowly. "It's been twenty years," he murmured, never stopping his caress of the body at his side, chin resting on the blond head. "His name was Tom. Back then I didn't know it, but he was a paranormal."  
"Not a vampire, I guess?"  
"No. A Trigger."  
"Heard about them. Magic-users."  
Ecklie nodded. "I loved him a lot. He had to die because of what he was."  
And the story poured out of him, all the good times and the bad, all the pain, and Franklin listened silently, ensconced in Ecklie's arms, a reminder of what he could have, what his future might hold for him if he could let go of the past.

* * *

The night had passed in a haze of passion, rekindled again and again. It was the first time Ecklie had made love to the vampire, not just Franklin. There was no difference, except the knowledge. It didn't make Franklin into a monster, but it raised a few questions he had been wondering about ever since finding out that the legends were true.  
They just lay together, Ecklie drawing gentle patterns on his lover's back as Franklin pillowed his head on the other man's chest.  
"Your eyes glow," Ecklie murmured all of a sudden, touching a topic that had fascinated him since seeing it the very first time in Las Vegas.  
Franklin smiled slightly. "Yes, they do."  
"You can control it?"  
A shrug. "Not always. When the vampire comes through, it happens. Emotions are another factor."  
Ecklie reached out and touched one pale cheek, caressing it with his thumb. "Can you show me?"  
The vampire gazed levelly at him. "You really want to see?"  
"Yes."  
And the silver light rose in the gray orbs. Ecklie didn't flinch back, just looked at the suddenly alien eyes, the scientist in him raising a myriad of questions.  
"You said emotions?" he asked.  
A nod.  
"Like pleasure? Sexual pleasure?"  
Another nod.  
Ecklie looked thoughtful. "So you held back all the time?" he whispered.  
The fire in the gray eyes died down abruptly and Franklin looked away. He started to sit up, but Ecklie caught him by one arm, aware that he was no match for vampire strength should Franklin really want to leave.  
"Why?" he wanted to know. "Didn't want to scare me?"  
"Something like it," Franklin murmured.  
"Even now that I know?"  
The gray eyes were filled with confusion.  
"Franklin," Ecklie only said softly.  
The vampire sat rooted to the spot, looking unsure. It was laughable, Ecklie thought. This man was nearly two centuries old, but he was as insecure and self-conscious as the next person when it came to who he was.  
"How come a being so old as you is so… insecure when it comes to revealing his true nature?" he asked.  
"Because of what I feel when it comes to you," was the quiet reply. "I've never felt it before. It's strong, it's incredibly intense and I want it, Conrad. I want you. I think I've been waiting for you all my life. I'm afraid what happens should you… not want me in return because of what I am. I don't want to scare you off. I'm not going to bite you or drink your blood. I'm not going to turn into a monster on you."  
"I know that."  
He couldn't say he wasn't scared, but it was more of his own emotions than what Franklin was. He had slept with this man for months now. Ecklie leaned forward and brushed their lips together. No fangs, no claws, just a human being who was slightly different. When Franklin didn't pull back, he deepened the kiss and he was invited inside. Pushing Franklin back onto the bed, he straddled the unresisting form, hands, lips and tongue starting a sensual assault on the other man.  
"Don't hold back," Ecklie whispered into one ear.  
There was a smile on Franklin's lips as he wrapped his arms around his lover and returned the ministrations. Sealing their lips together, both men sank into a haze of sexual pleasure.  
When Franklin's climax hit him and his eyes glowed with the power of the vampire, Ecklie met the hot gaze with the same power and heat, buried deep inside his lover. He sank into the waiting arms, spent, sated, warm… and he heard Franklin whisper 'I love you' into his ear.  
He felt the same.  
He just couldn't say it out loud.

* * *

"You want to go back, right?"  
Ecklie looked up from his book. "What?"  
Franklin smiled and sank onto the couch at the foot end, crossing his legs under him. "You want to go back to Las Vegas," he stated.  
"What makes you think that?"  
A shrug. "Just a feeling. You've been restless the past two weeks."  
Ecklie laid the book aside and looked at the blond. In the last weeks, the two men had grown closer. Ever since the revelation, things had changed. It was as if the fragile balance of before had been turned into a strong bond between them. There was nothing forced about their relationship and Ecklie was starting to feel more secure when it came to this wonderful man.  
Franklin was a constant in his life, he was a part of it, and everyone knew it. The vampire didn't so much as look at another man or woman, and no one approached him any more.  
"I was thinking about it, yes," he finally confessed.  
"So, when are you leaving?"  
It hit him like a blow into the face. Franklin was actually convinced he would return to Vegas. The year he had been given to think about his career, whether to come back or leave for good, would be up in two months. He would have to make a decision, but Franklin thought he already had.  
"What makes you think I'm going?" he asked numbly.  
A shrug. "This isn't your life, Conrad. You need a challenge and really, your job here isn't one, right?" Franklin grinned.  
Ecklie chuckled. "It earns money."  
"So does being a criminalist in Las Vegas. More money, too. You still have your place there, Conrad. You know you want it."  
"I also want you," he confessed softly.  
Franklin gave him a warm, wonderful smile. "You've got me."  
Ecklie blinked. "What?"  
"Give me another month and I've wrapped up my business here."  
"You want to move with me?" he exclaimed.  
"Sure."  
Ecklie was speechless. He knew he was staring at his lover like a complete nut, but it was hard to comprehend. Franklin would give up everything here and go with him?  
The vampire touched one outstretched leg and gentle massaged it. "Conrad, I love you. I want to be with you, but you're not happy here. I'm not chained to this city. I can go wherever I want. I'll just have to wrap up some loose ends with my business connections, then I'll pack my bags and off I go to Vegas. That is, if you want me to…"  
Ecklie's eyes were wide as saucer and his flailed for words. "Of course!" he finally managed.  
Franklin smiled and crawled up the outstretched legs to finally meet Ecklie's lips. "Good." He kissed him gently.  
Ecklie wrapped his arms around the slender man and held him tightly. "Thank you," he murmured when they parted.  
"What for?"  
"Everything."

* * *

Ecklie was the first to move back to his place in Vegas. Everything looked like it had before, except for a new casino that had opened just a few months ago. Potential future crime scene, the criminalist in him immediately thought. Moving back into his house wasn't difficult. The rental agreement had stated that it was short-term only. Since the man who had rented it had been looking for a transfer to New York anyway, it was actually quite simple.  
Looking around the house he hadn't seen in nearly ten months, Ecklie felt strangely as if he had come back home – with just one missing piece. Franklin would be arriving in a week, moving in with him. The decision hadn't been hard to make, even if the vampire had offered to get his own place, maybe stay at the Shaman for a while. Ecklie would have none of it. He wanted his lover close. They had spent the nights together in San Francisco, always in Ecklie's apartment, and he didn't want that to change.  
Well, a few things would change. Ecklie worked days, Franklin was a night owl by his very nature. His lover had told him it wouldn't be a problem, but that had to be seen. Vampires slept a lot less than humans.  
Oh well… for now, Ecklie didn't worry a lot.  
He just felt too good.  
He felt human.  
He felt alive.

* * *

Franklin arrived at dawn. He had driven through the night and the pick-up was loaded with the few things he had taken along. Ecklie was surprised how light the vampire traveled.  
"Just some clothes, books, mementos," Franklin answered when he remarked on it, standing next to the blue car.  
An arm snaked around Ecklie's waist and Franklin kissed him lightly. He responded in kind, then noticed the shadows.  
"Damn!" he growled and pulled his lover inside.  
Franklin laughed. "Will you relax? I'm fine!"  
"Don't tempt it," was the only reply and dark eyes checked the blond.  
Franklin hugged him close. "Thanks for caring, Conrad." He nipped at his lips. "How about a tour of the house now?"  
"It's not much. You won't get lost in," Ecklie replied.  
Actually, it was medium-sized and functional. He had a large library-like room, which was actually his office, full of shelves will all kinds of titles stocked on the wooden boards. It was his favorite room where he spent most of his time. Ecklie's social life had been close to non-existent, not unlike Grissom's he mused now, and he had spent a lot of his time at work. Not unlike Grissom.  
The house had two bedrooms, one which was a guest room and almost empty. The living room was home to a TV set and DVD player, as well as some art paintings. The attic was where he had once planned to have another room, but he had scrapped those plans. Franklin was actually quite interested in them now.  
"I like it," Franklin said softly when they were through. "Comfy."  
Ecklie shrugged. It was probably nothing compared to what a vampire was used to. Said vampire now pushed him gently against the wall, smiling.  
"You think too much about what I might prefer… can't you accept that I like it? That this is what I want? That it's you I want?"  
He looked into the serious gray eyes and smiled. "Getting there," he whispered.  
Franklin kissed him. "Good, 'cause I'm not going to keep beating it into your thick head, Conrad Ecklie."  
Ecklie wrapped his arms around the slender form, hungrily answering the kiss.

* * *

Nick was on his way to the lab when the apparition crossed his way. Staring, mouth nearly dropping open, Nick barely managed from running into the glass wall of the DNA lab. He stopped and looked after the suntanned, slender man in the so completely unusual outfit; unusual for the man wearing it.  
"What the…?"  
The man proceeded down the corridor and then entered one of the offices.  
"Shit, I'm hallucinating," Nick murmured.  
That couldn't have been… Right?

 

Grissom was surprised to discover who his visitor was; and surprise was a mild word for it.  
"Hello, Gil."  
He rose from behind his desk, baffled. "Conrad."  
"I thought I'd drop by personally, give you a heads-up. I'll be back on duty tomorrow." Ecklie smiled slightly.  
Grissom chuckled. "It's appreciated, but I heard of your return already. I just didn't expect to see you here already." He looked up and down the other man. "You look good."  
Ecklie shrugged. "I needed the time I was away. A lot needed to get back into perspective again."  
Grissom was still not quite over the shock of Ecklie's new looks. He was suntanned, dressed in a pair of jeans with a simple shirt and a jacket over it. He looked relaxed, balanced, completely at ease and at peace with himself in particular and the world in general. His hair was shorter and the lines in his face had eased. His eyes fairly glowed with life and the permanently cynical twist to his mouth had disappeared.  
"Welcome back then, Conrad."  
"It's good to be back," Ecklie replied. He smiled again. "See you around."  
With that he left the office again. His presence was replaced by a very confused looking Nick, wearing his lab coat, dark eyes disbelieving.  
"Was that who I think it was?"  
"That, Nicky, was and still is Conrad Ecklie."  
"No way. That man wears his tweed suits and shirts like a second skin!"  
Grissom laughed softly. "It looks like a lot has happened to Ecklie in the time was gone."  
"Yes, he acquired a sense of dress."  
Grissom looked thoughtfully at the spot where Ecklie had been mere minutes ago. "And maybe more."  
Nick shot him a questioning look, but Grissom just shrugged one shoulder. They might find out in time – or not at all.

* * *

Ecklie walked into his townhouse and smiled as he heard the noise of the TV. He closed the door and went into the living room, discovering his lover sprawled on the couch. Franklin twisted his head and smiled at him.  
"Hey, you're early."  
Ecklie noticed the closed blinds that still let enough light in without using lamps.  
"It was an easy day," he replied, throwing his jacket over the back of one chair.  
"Well, it was your first day."  
"True. It'll take a while to get used to it again, but I think I'll be up to speed soon."  
Franklin rose from the couch, still smiling, and pulled his lover into a welcome kiss. "Good. Hungry?"  
Ecklie grinned, eyebrows rising. The question was rather ambiguous and he knew the vampire could mean either thing.  
"I mean food," Franklin went on, smiling cheekily.  
"Sounds wonderful."  
They walked into the kitchen.  
"By the way, I got a job."  
Ecklie raised his eyebrows. "You got a job?" he echoed.  
"Yep. I had some interviews in the last weeks before I moved. I'm starting the day after tomorrow."  
"Starting as what?"  
"Personnel manager."  
Ecklie's eyes widened. "Manager?"  
"Yep. The Inca was looking for one and I got the job. It was that or receptionist in the Excalibur." Franklin gave him a grin.  
"So now you're the personnel manager of the Inca." Ecklie took a sandwich and bit into it. "Do managers work night shifts?"  
"Nope. I've got regular daytime hours."  
The CSI nearly choked on his bite. "What?" he exclaimed. "Are you crazy? You're a vampire!"  
"I know that, Conrad, believe me. And my office has nicely shaded windows with wonderful blinds. I don't have to go out in the midday sun and even if I come and go in daylight, you know that vampires don't turn to dust in the sun. I'm old enough to have a high resistance to sunlight; hours actually. A shake or two will remedy the negative effects."  
"Franklin, you're nuts! Why did you take that job? There have to be others! At night!"  
"Sure, but that would mean all we have of each other is a hello and good-bye while coming or going, and the weekends." Franklin shrugged, looking a bit unsure. "I thought if we work the same hours, we could see more of each other, Conrad."  
Ecklie counted to five and released a slow breath. His emotions were in turmoil, most of all his protective instinct. Franklin was a vampire, for crying out loud! An old vampire, part of him reminded him. A lot older than you and he survived the centuries just fine.  
Still… this was the man he loved. He didn't want to see him hurt.  
"I know you're right and I want to have you with me here, Franklin. And in bed at night. But the risk…"  
"Isn't as great as you think. I'll be fine." He stepped closer and slipped an arm around Ecklie's waist, pulling him against himself. "I've been on this earth for a long time now, love. I know how much I can take and when to stop. I can handle it."  
Ecklie looked doubtful but finally relented. "Okay," he murmured. "It's just…"  
"You worry. I'm touched, Conrad. But I'll be fine. We both will."  
He looked into the serious, gray eyes and smiled slightly. His fingers played across the clean-shaven jaw and cupped it. Lips brushed together and Franklin melted against him.  
They would be fine. Ecklie really hoped so. He had been given a second chance here and he planned on using it to the fullest.


End file.
